


Untangle The Knots

by Nugg



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Abuse, Anxiety, Bullying, Depression, Group Therapy, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Suicide Attempt, Violence, its a freaking roller coaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 06:51:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17976461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nugg/pseuds/Nugg
Summary: Ryuji would do anything for his mom, and unfortunately for him, going to group therapy falls under that list. Explaining your horrible past to a bunch of kids your age isn’t necessarily his favorite pastime. But, hanging out with the transfer student who had chosen to sit next to him, became a new favorite. Even if there are some rather rough bumps along the way. Those who he befriended helped change his life, all the grueling and depressing therapy sessions, perhaps made it all worth it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Holy hell this thing can finally leave my docs!
> 
> I got the pleasure of working with [Gummy!](http://gummymela.tumblr.com/) (Who's one of my favorite Pegoryu artists???) Over these past six months, it's been fun checking in with each other. My beta Dani, is also a blessing, for my binge writing can get to my head, and I end up spelling everything wrong.

Everything was pale blue. The sky, the lighting in the room far too big for the group, white chairs clashing with the few fluorescent lights that lined the ceiling. The stains shaped like circles in the particle board above had set the scene for the shit show Ryuji seemed to find himself in.

The other pastels practically radiated from the various people who stood around the place. Light purples of nostalgia-riddled with black outlines of fear, yellows of warning peeking through the trust of cobalt they’d been so foolishly presented.

Of course, he wasn’t going to pretend he wasn’t just playing the color game on people he had never met before, just to pass the time. More and more depressed faces filing into the poorly lit place. Uncomfortable stances, small voices, all grounding Ryuji, and reminding himself where he was.

Group therapy would’ve never been his idea. Naturally, when a pamphlet was shoved in his mailbox, his mother’s bright beam caught up with him. He couldn’t deny that he fell into the amber coloring of her eyes when she was excited, like always, he cemented in it, beginning to fossilize in guilt.

All he wanted was to make her happy, so, muddling through a couple of weeks of this wasn’t even a question. Taking the sullen expressions over her concern for him any day. Lying to himself in some half-assed attempts to try and see the bright side of this deep dark situation.

It was… hard although, when he finally got the urge to look up from his lap, catching on a familiar frail bodied girl stood that idly by the door. Awkward as she’d always been, ponytail Ryuji swore she’d copyrighted. She was gripping her arms tightly, trying to make herself as small as she could.

Suzui Shiho wasn’t a bad person by any means to Ryuji. He’d known her for years, and even if they’d only exchanged a few words over that time, he was sure her kindness still held up.

It was more of her best friend that he was worried about. Dating the guy who ruined his life… he couldn’t necessarily say they were on the same plain. Especially after they’d gotten into a heated argument, the harshness of their loud bickering flashing in his mind.

He was sure Suzui would tell her everything about today. She could tell Takamaki all about him, and she would totally blab to the jackass. Ruin his rep even more by spreading what he’d said around the school, telling his peers all about how fucked he really was.

The thought of him sharing his woes with a group of people was already shitty anyway. So with Suzui there in all her shrunken down glory, he couldn’t help but feel even tenser.

Like another weight added to the barbell of emotions, Ryuji straightened up upon feeling someone take the seat beside him. Fueling the annoyance bubbling in his blood, not bothering to glance over at the lunatic who decided to sit right next to him. But, instead focusing on the four chair gap between him and the next depressed teenager.

He knew he was being petty, finally getting a glance at his neighbor who knew nothing of personal space. The dude didn’t intentionally try to grind Ryuji's gears, he just wanted a place to sit. Reserved, shoulders hunched as he twisted the strand of hair that fell on his face between lanky fingers.

Certainly, he didn’t look like he belonged in group therapy. There wasn’t necessarily a dress code for this kind of place, but how nice the dude's clothes were definitely caught his eye. Glasses making the picture even more confusing, the long lashes hidden beneath.

Despite the appearance, Ryuji knew not to judge any book by its cover first hand. And that if the guy decided to study him, he’d probably think the rough outside matched the inside. And, maybe he would be right, he didn’t really know himself.

Quite frankly, judging just wasn’t his thing anyway.

And... show and tell wasn’t his thing either. He quickly realized as the meeting began, as the peppy group leader showed off his smile carved specifically for them. Too happy for a middle-aged man stuck in a circle full of depressed and broken kids.

Their sullen faces and shaky hands told enough, that words seemed like overkill. Fragile sentences, cracking halfway through, and fighting to not cry. It was painful to watch their faces twist and contort at how miserable they were to speak out loud.

If he didn’t hate it before, the discouraging sobs sure as hell did it for Ryuji. Making the thought of him saying anything at all about his past even more frightening. Leg bouncing uncontrollably, fingers clawing into his pants to stop it, a distraction from looking up and seeing Suzui.

“Ahem.”

Ryuji just about shot up from his chair and let his life spill from his mouth before the guy next to him did. Quickly jolting upwards at the leaders gaze, and settling back down into himself all in one swift movement. His neighbor's saturnine gaze catching Ryuji's eyes on him before facing the rest of the group, the dyed blond ashamed of his staring.

“Um.” It was pitiful to see the guy cringe at his own voice. Like he hadn’t used it in years, scratchy, and squeaky and all at the same time velvety from lying dormant, “Hello. I am Kurusu Akira.”

A melody of returned greetings sounded around the circle, and he closed his eyes into them, “I just moved here,” his fingers began to toy with the zipper on his coat, and Ryuji wondered if he should continue to watch, “On probation.”

Maybe he was expecting an array of gasps, glancing up to find reactions, and deepening his frown at the realization that nobody had seemed to even flinch. Letting his hands continue with their fiddling, the blond quickly finding out from all his staring, that was something he did when he was uneasy.

His eyes hastily fell, focusing back in his lap, “For- for uh, assaulting a man. While trying to protect a woman.”

“I shoved him, and he fell. I was arrested, my parents were mortified, and I was sent here to live.” He finished, busy fingers now gripping at his pant leg.

It was quiet.

The look of misery displayed on the guy's face was nothing short of heart-wrenching. Ryuji wanted to reach over and tell him that the silence he was given didn't mean anything. That he still had a voice, even if he was shouting into the void. To tell him he was okay, to befriend him right on the spot to stop his nails from digging into his leg.

He'd always despised the quiet. And even if he couldn't physically make him feel better, his mouth got best of him. Reckless words coming out to break the silence so undeserved.

“Well, that's bullshit.”

The guy whipped his head to face Ryuji, mouth slightly gaped open at what he’d just said. Forcing the blond to maybe reconsider his phrasing.

“Ya helped someone. And got shit in return. How’s that fair?” Ryuji shook his head, repeating his statement with a mumble, “It’s bullshit.”

The gentle smile he’d received from his neighbor, had been enough to know what he’d done was appreciated. Warm enough, and full of meaning, it made Ryuji feel nice about himself.

“Well, if you’re so vocal,” the group leaders voice immediately made his heart drop, “Why don’t you go ahead and introduce yourself!”

The pride of being a good person had completely made him forget about his own turn. Almost immediately uncomfortable with just about everything in the room.

Ryuji tried to calm himself down in his head, to keep his nerves at bay. Closing his eyes and thinking about anything but his current surroundings, anything but the eyes of the guy he’d defended now glued onto him.

Holding down his thigh to stop his leg from thumping, he looked around the circle, “Yo.”

And immediately felt stupid, oh god.

“Er- I’m Sakamoto Ryuji.” He could practically feel the awkwardness seeping from his pores. Trying his best not to sweat and become all gross under pressure.

He cleared his suddenly dry throat at the staleness in the room, “And heh- uhm… my dad.”

The neighboring stare was putting him in a position he didn’t want to be in. Curious eyes so fixated on the blond, even he wasn’t deliberate in his actions, it still psyched Ryuji out beyond repair. To know someone was listening intently, to know someone was going to be watching him blurt out things he’d swore he’d never say out loud, it was kind of freaky.

“He was an alcoholic. Not always, which kinda made his uh- abuse more difficult on my mom and me.” The coolness of how he’d said it was like a punch to the gut. As such an oversharer, getting things out all at once was something he was unfortunately used to.

“To make the shit shittier, I was part of a track team with a very sinister coach. Such a dick to me especially since I was gonna carry the team. Pervy, always so demanding and degrading, it was the cherry sucking ass on top of it all.”

His little phrase didn’t seem to smooth over well with the few scrunched up faces he’d spotted, “And… he somehow found out about my dad hittin’ us and stuff.”

The eyes next to him bore into his soul and dug around for the truth, “So, when he said something about my mom deserving it… I snapped. I punched him, and he, in turn, broke my leg, and ended my career.”

“It was hard the first couple a’ months, hearin’ all the people say I was just like my father. Whisperin’ real loud about me bein’ a failure.”

“They all hate me, which is understandable. I jus’… keep my head low and try to make it through each day.”

If he didn’t like the silence before, the now quiet room was nowhere near as embarrassing as it had been before. It made his face heat up, taking away the chill from the overly cold air conditioning in the building. He’d poured personal shit out to these people, and all he’d gotten in return was averted gazes.

The next person had already gone ahead with their story before Ryuji even got the chance to register what had happened. Staring patterns into the dirty old tile by his worn-out shoes to let himself rest easy. Some lame attempt to stop himself from getting upset, like squeezing his eyes shut tightly would make the Kurusu guys sympathetic gaze, go away.

At school, he was so used to being ignored. And, maybe he got his own hopes up, reading the dumb pamphlet and trying to convince himself it wouldn't be half bad. It had come back to bite him in the ass when he'd trusted a random group of people exactly like his classmates, with his tragic past.

Unfortunately, the waves of self-depreciation began to swallow him, blocking out the circle. Like he had suddenly set sail on a boat hastily made of cheap wood, rocking on rough waters. Bound to fail. Break apart and drown in his mistakes. Watching the weakness float around him as he sank to the ocean floor.

Everything that had happened to him seemed so minuscule compared to the other’s stories of hardships. And he knew he shouldn't compare himself to them, that tragedy was no competition. Shaky hands and brain going a mile a minute trying to wrap itself and comprehend that no level of pain was the same. Seeming to be incapable, as the thoughts of him shoving his history away in favor of claiming it was no big deal whirled around and stopped all rationality.

“Oh?” Ryuji practically jolted out of his little world at the voice, “I apologize.”

Suzui had held her skirt in her hands. Bunching up the fabric with such force, knuckles even whiter than her normally pale tones. It took him a moment to notice the bandages on her fingers, “Hi everyone, my name is Shiho Suzui.”

She seemed upset… he thought maybe it was, guilt for him? For believing everyone at that hell hole of a place they dared call a school? Although, she had never really partook in the heckling. He was just being self-absorbed, and desperately wanted something to make him feel better, as if he most likely wasn’t the furthest thing from the girl's mind at that point… It was just the way her brow was knitted together, how wobbly her mouth seemed to be as if she was quivering. Something wasn’t right, and it made Ryuji feel sick.

“My best friend is in a relationship with an older man to protect me.” Ryuji tried his best not to wince at how miserable she looked to be in the spotlight.

“A… teacher.” She just about whispered, bowing her head into her lap.

The shakiness in her voice just about killed Ryuji, so brittle and broken, something he knew all too well, “He’s abusing my peers and I. And is perverted… so, my friend stepped in for me to try and make it better.”

No names had been dropped, but he knew. He knew exactly who she was speaking of so fearfully. So angry, that the bullshit he had gone through was still happening, if not even worse than before. He couldn’t help but blame himself for being so reckless, wondering if his outburst had knocked another screw loose, and made Kamoshida angrier.

A single tear rolled down her face, grimacing before wiping it away quickly, “It disturbs me to see her like that… it hurts. She’s so rightfully uncomfortable with him. I feel disgusting to sit and watch it all happen.”

If he would’ve known all this would continue, he would’ve made sure to break the ugly bastard's nose with his punch. It was obvious Shiho was speaking of Ann and Kamoshida, and he was so disappointed in himself for believing all the rumors about their relationship. It sucked to be spoken about behind your back, as he would know, and yet, there he was, letting the lies get into his head.

Takamaki wasn’t dating him because she wanted too. It’s because she thought she had to, and that just twisted the knife in his heart even more. Mind wandering to just what exactly he was doing to her, what exactly would he do to Suzui if she hadn’t had someone step in?

He knew apologies did nothing against all the pain he'd caused, but when the meeting ended, watching Suzui shuffle out the door left him feeling empty. Legs moving before his mind did, and following her out, watching the pink scrunchie bob between those walking.

It was chilly for an April night, shrugging on his purple jacket to not seem like a jittery nutcase when speaking to her. Struggling against the air hitting his face, weaving through people and repeating apologies like a broken record. Desperate to get everything off his chest, letting her know he was the problem, and that he was worthless for being so.

“Suzui!” He shouted, sprinting despite the tightness in his knee, relieved to see her actually stopping to associate with someone like him, to actually give him some sort of chance.

Words began to align in his head, trying to think of something worthwhile to say to the girl. Ryuji was able to see the small bit of hope flickering in the puffy eyes, something Kamoshida was unable to take away just yet, something he wished he still had. The fresh darkness around them making the weights under her eyes more noticeable. Pale moonlight and street lamps not being kind to her complexion.

“Oh shit, I didn’t think you’d uh, turn around.” He stopped a good space away from her, knowing from past experiences of feet shuffling away from him. Hands scratching at the worn down fabric inside his coat pockets.

She stood with a frail smile. Something easily breakable, ceramic, carved specifically for the public, and pieced together with fading glue. Still being able to spread the prickling sensation of tranquility by just standing there. Sending him deeper into the pit of despair to know that the reason her lips faltered, and her hands shook, was because he couldn’t keep his anger down.

“I’m sorry.”

She blinked hard, and knit her brows close together in confusion. A few members from the group passed by, unaware of the layer of ice forming around the pair. Ryuji’s face freshly hot with embarrassment, and weakly thawing the frozenness around his throat.

Seeing her tilt her head with question, was a shock. To not vocalize her anger with him, or not say something crude straight up, and shut him down quickly before he could manage anything else. She hadn’t walked away like so many others would’ve done, and it was definitely something Ryuji wasn't expecting.

“Sorry for what exactly, Sakamato?” She asked, hands clasped in front of her.

Her sleeve rode up with this action, and Ryuji just about choked upon seeing the faint purple on her wrist, “It- I knew who you were talkin’ about. Well- I mean. It was kinda obvious to me. But-“

Apologizing had always been hard for him, “It’s my fault that he got worse. I should’ve kept my hands to myself. But I ‘effed up, and now everything is worse off than it's ever been.”

Suzui’s doleful expression made him want to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness even more than before. Wishing she’d just get it over with, to stop stalling and make him pay for everything he’d done. Her innocence making it worse, purity being potentially ruined by that shitbag because of him and his short temper.

“Oh Sakamoto,” he watched as dainty fingers peppered with bandages clutched at her chest, light pink nail polish reminiscent of Takemki. So tight on the fabric, as if she was attempting to take out her heart and give it to him as compensation, “I couldn’t possibly blame you for any of this.”

Ryuji could definitely feel his eyes bulge from his head, breath hitching in the stilled air, “Wha-“

“You were brave. You did something none of us could even fathom doing. They're blind with his brainwashing.” She bowed her head into what was probably the most genuine smile she'd had in a while, “Please, don't apologize for someone else's harshness.”

“You’re not upset?” He questioned, stepping forward like closing the space would give him a better answer, and faltering in realization.

Shaking her head, Suzui’s thin lips split into a cautious smile, something Ryuji had often seen himself doing, “Of course not, Sakamoto.”

“Well-“ he paused, watching her damaged features twist to listen to him. Such big eyes filled with sorrow looking right back at him, “Thank you... An’ don’t worry about me tellin’ anyone about this meeting.”

He liked the nod he received, letting her know that her words were safe with him by letting his own hesitant goofy grin spread, “I dunno who I’d even tell it to. And despite what everyone else says, I’m not an asshole.”

“I know, Sakamoto.” She stifled a laugh.

“Ya ain’t gonna rag on me either, right?” He asked, the nervousness of trust bubbling in his stomach.

Reaching up with bandaged hands, she brought her fingers to her lips. Zipping her mouth shut, and closing her eyes to the promise.

She twisted on her heels, making her way down the sidewalk again, and leaving Ryuji to himself. The rumble of the trains beneath him like a weight, holding him down. Head filled to the brim with the helium closure, he’d sworn he could’ve floated away.

Until he was met with a rough shove, tumbling forward, knees not knowing what to do. Yelling at the sudden movement and bracing for his legs to not save him. Flinching prematurely at the contact with the rough ground.

Ryuji let his hands catch himself to avoid a mouth full of cement. Already feeling the sting of ripped skin, as he slid upon impact. Squeezing his eyes shut into the throbbing pain in his thigh, and the burn on his palms. Catching his breath as he looked up.

The blonde pigtails covered Takamaki’s face when she turned around. Scowl wavering upon seeing him on the ground, making Ryuji feel even more pathetic.

“What..” He felt so small under her icy stare, “What the hell man!?”

For a split second, it looked like she was debating something, hands twitching at her sides, torn between helping him up, or just leaving. Did she feel bad?

“Don’t you dare talk to Shiho again you ass.” She stepped back at her words, waving an accusing finger. Look of remorse flashing through her face when Ryuji lifted up his hands, showing off the fresh scrapes, “Or… you- you’ll uh, regret it.”

Takamaki really was never good at hostile conversations. Nor was she any better at threats, evident in the way she scrunched up her face at her stuttery attempt.

Swallowing hard, and whipping back around, her heels clicked on the sidewalk as she tried to catch up to Suzui. Leaving Ryuji to the cold ground, pity spilling out of the scrapes on his hands. Wondering really, if every time something mildly okay happened to him, would it be taken away?

But he supposed he deserved it.

The city lights and elaborate shadows draped across the city, Ryuji tried to busy his thoughts. Ignoring the fact that he probably wouldn’t be able to get up himself any time soon. Subways hissing below his hands and grounding him to the cement that shook beneath him, once again.

When something laying on his shoulder however, the shaking tracks underground seemed like nothing compared to the rattle in his brain. Jolting forward, forgetting that he should probably twist around and chew out the culprit before he took off running. Because, god, now what? Was he gonna get mugged?

He did neither of those things.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry.” Ryuji took a hot second to register the face in front of him, watching as he stuck out his hand.

The guy who had sat next to him from the meeting stared down at him. Careful of his fresh cuts on his hands upon taking hold of the others generous help. Standing, and trying not to wince at his leg, self consciously taking a bit to regain his balance.

Of course, Ryuji had already forgotten the dude's name. The yellow of the street lamps highlighting the top of his darkened hair, much like Suzui. Dressed with more care than Ryuji took notice to in the meeting, glasses blocking out anyway for him to get a look at the hauntingly grey eyes that found their way onto Ryuji during the meeting.

Ryuji shook his head and settled himself down, “Nah man, it’s chill. Thanks for helpin’ me up though.”

People on probation probably had to be all proper anyways, just to stay clean and clear of any trouble. So, the blond had to quickly bury any initial tainted thoughts about the dude. So sure that the boy standing in front of him had also been dealt with the less than kind, harsh reality.

Judging just wasn’t his thing either as he’d learned more and more today.

Pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, the guy closed his eyes like his words were going to hurt when said, “Oh… I… wanted to say thank you.”

“Uh,” he knew now how Suzui had felt earlier in not knowing what he was talking about, “Uhm- I ain’t quite sure what you’re thankin’ me for?”

“For-“ the guy furrowed his brow, making Ryuji feel even more dumb for not getting something that was probably obviously right in front of him, “For standing up for me in there.”

He blinked, “Oh! Ohhhh! Dude, don’t thank me, it was nothin’.”

“Nothing?” the other sputtered, “You’re the first person to say anything nice about me in ages.”

“Well uh,” Ryuji shifted his weight to his good knee, thinking of something to say to something so genuine, “You’re welcome? It was really no big deal.”

The guy paused for a moment. And Ryuji gathered up all the courage he has not to scrunch up his nose at the strong coffee smell coming from the other. A small quirk to the edges of his lips, and a little bit of joy radiating from that.

“I just wanted to let you know, I appreciated it.” He let his shoulders rise and fall with his words.

For a small moment, Ryuji felt the unwelcomed rush of heat to his face. Under a gaze so fierce, he wasted no time looking away, focusing on the cracks in the sidewalk. And cursing himself to become so caught up in a practical stranger.

He smiled at Ryuji, and Ryuji was so starved of positive human contact, he took it way too far in his damaged little brain. Wanting to run with the fresh feeling that the dude gave him, feeling so ashamed with finding such solace in someone just simply being kind.

It faded when he moved past, coffee scent practically screaming out. Gracefully shuffling away from the blond, and leaving him to the cold streets again. Alone again, hands now registering the roughed up skin from his fall, shoved into his pockets. Knee aching, just waiting to get a break, with promises of a bruise.

Ryuji was alone again. But the bit of warmth just recently placed in his heart made the darkness feel like it had only ever existed to make the light count.

And he liked that.


	2. Chapter 2

Ryuji rubbed at his eyes, yawn threatening to contaminate those walking around him. Early morning hours weighing him down more and more each day, constant traffic blending in with the businessmen and their booming phone calls. Loud chatter of people his age on their way to school, mixing well with the ladies on a mission that marched on passed him, heels clicking everywhere they stepped. 

He wouldn’t say he wasn’t a morning person, because he really did love the sunrise. Just, to wake up early, sneak around the house and put on his running clothes, cautious around every floorboard, trying not to wake his mother. Ready to do laps in some random park until his lungs gave out, or until school was on the horizon. Earbuds plugged in to put a soundtrack to the marvelous scenery that moved past him.

When he’d feel the nice park gravel beneath his old sneakers, slipping between the morning shadows as he ran, he felt at peace. Soft orange of the daylight fading in, blinding him more often than not, skidding across the calm pond, and reflecting the beauty with a watercolor twist. It was pretty, and it was calming enough to settle him into a nice pace. 

It’s what he dreaded missing after his injury. Not even attempting the trek in fear it would ruin the once great feeling that came from it. Rather, enjoying the memories and blurry pictures, than to try, and proceed to wreak one of the things that made him happy. 

Now, he dreaded even getting up. Mulling in his bed, staring at the dark walls with the heaviness in his body, like his blood was all thick and weighted. Watching his alarm go off for a third time as he lay and contemplate even getting up at all, eyes probably baggy and dark after another restless night. 

The rain seeped into his worn-out shoes as he stepped out from the station. Grumbling to himself as he ducked under an awning, quickly shucking off his freshly ironed blazer, and draping it over his head. Using the coverage to its best ability as he dashed along, puddles sending splashes of water up against his ankles. 

It was slightly muggy out as well to Ryuji's dismay. He’d much rather take the coolness from the previous night, than the sauna-like air getting caught in his throat. Just hoping he’d gotten to the school gates before the water had made its way into his socks. The multi-colored bandages on his hands had begun to peel off in such annoying weather.

A car slowed to a stop a bit ahead of him, and he shook his head at their terrible driving. Feeling like a grumpy old man, finding fault in the smallest things. Watching the driver roll down their window, and sighing, slowing down his pace along with the rain diminishing to a light drizzle.

Knee pain aside, he completely tossed the idea of taking it slow when he’d saw Ann. Reluctantly making her way to the car, and finally making out the driver. Heart lurching at the ugly face, and feet stumbling at the horrid voice, practically echoing all around him. 

He’d started to run just as Kamoshida pulled away. 

The band-aids that peppered his hands threatened to fall off in the rain even more so now, as he waved frantically. Knowing deep down inside himself that Kamoshida would never stop for him, his legs wobbled as a way to tell him to halt. Sliding across the slick sidewalk, catching his breath, and letting the raindrops slide down his face in defeat. 

“Dammit,” He cursed under his breath, “Screw that pervy teacher.” 

What he thought had been heard by nobody but himself, was echoed behind him, “Pervy teacher?” 

Cautious upon twisting around, Ryuji held his breath he’d just recently regained. A Shujin student stood, a questioning look playing on his face, and a strong gaze he’d remembered. Squinting towards the familiar dude, and wracking his brain to place where he’d seen the guy. 

“Oh,” he scooted under the awning with him watching the features for any sort of expression to tell him to back off, “It’s you, from the meeting, uhhh…” 

Before Ryuji could even guess, the other had slightly smiled, something he had definitely remembered from last night, “Kurusu Akira.” 

Ryuji lit up, “Oh! Yeah! You go to Shujin!?”

Looking down at his uniform, and back up to the blond, he nodded, “I think so?” 

“You… think?” Ryuji scrunched up his nose at him, and quickly shook it off in realization, “Shit that’s right, you’re new, sorry man.”

He tapped his foot into a puddle and glanced at the cars sloshing around in the standing water on the roads. A group of girls giggling as they hurried along in the rain. Bringing his distracted mind back to the situation at hand in mere seconds. 

Blinking a few times to think, Ryuji stuck his hand out towards the rumored criminal, forgetting about the multi-colored bandages on his palms, and grinned wide, “M’ names Sakamoto Ryuji if ya didn’t already know, an’ really I don’t care, you can totally call me Ryuji.”

Kurusu took his handshake, big eyes hidden behind even bigger frames, the blond sensed hesitance. Cringing at his shitty boundary issues, and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Delicate in taking away his hand, and silent in his small step back out of the personal space he’d rudely jumped into. 

“You need help findin’ Shujin?” He’d asked, directing it more towards the ground than anything, “I can… uhm.” 

Kurusu looked shocked. Unfairly long eyelashes fluttering widely at Ryuji. It put immense pressure on the boy and brought down any confidence he’d been building in the last few minutes, flying the coop rather quickly. He was insanely embarrassed with himself. 

“Sorry. I’m being a prick. I’ll give ya a little space.” He weakly smiled, stepping back even farther, and trying hard to not show the disappointment.

Lowering his head once more, fully ready to spend his day in class thinking about how much he’d screwed it up, the world felt a bit stuffier. He’d made a fool of himself in front of the only person he ever really had a chance of befriending, someone who might’ve understood.

It sucked. 

And just as he’d stepped into a particularly hard bout of rain, he felt a tug on his sleeve. Furthering to tie the knot in his stomach, upon realization that Kurusu was giving him pity. Look ridden with sympathy, Ryuji made some half-assed attempt to push aside his doubts, and turned slowly. 

Soaked, and overly warm in the sudden mugginess. Ryuji nervously gripped his own arm, and let himself cave in even further, watching the almost pouty-like lips quiver before him. Feeling like shit for the frail grasp still on the fabric of his jacket, watching in silence as the boy in front of him regained composure, and let go quickly. 

“No. I need you!..” Kurusu breathed into the damp air like the whisper was only meant for them, “To uh… help me. Sorry.” 

Arching a brow, and shifting his weight, Ryuji couldn’t help but search for any warning signs of ulterior motives. Watching the aggressive rise and fall of his chest, like just saying that was like a marathon. And deciding to settle down, wrapping up his tainted thoughts and shoving them into the hope chest in the back of his mind. 

Gesturing behind himself, Ryuji let his happiness take over, “Right this way my man.” 

And as they walked down the empty alleyways, dark shadows taking over space around the two, they were silent. Shortcut seeming to take longer than ever before, walls of buildings going on forever.

He knew what would unfold at school, and the feeling of trust he’d had with a practical stranger could make him care less. Like they could take on the world if they had to. Ignore the stares, avoid the whispers, and do it together. Trying not to take his excitement too far, he leveled out his giddiness with the reminder of Kurusu’s circumstances, knowing full well what was in store for him at Shujin.

“And…” Ryuji puffed his cheeks out and glanced back to make sure he hadn’t run away yet, “Don’t let their words get to ya.”


	3. Chapter 3

Ryuji really didn’t know if it was coincidental. 

He could take his wildest guesses, and still be completely wrong. Walking leisurely to school, the quiet footsteps beside him, wispy black hair blocking the cloudy eyes more often than not. Freshly pressed uniforms, following strict to the code, turtleneck and all, making sure to be on his best behavior. Kurusu walking with him every morning may have been simple, but it meant the world to Ryuji. 

Maybe they’re both meeting under the same awning every morning by sheer luck. The idea seemed silly to Ryuji though. Shaking it away, for it to come back as he’d seen the lanky pale boy waiting for him in the same spot, never failing to make him smile at the greatness he’d felt. 

He wished everything came as easily as falling into a routine. To ignore the insults, to block out the faces of disgust towards him, just as well as he’d gotten used to the long-forgotten presence of someone else. 

Kurusu was quiet, and Ryuji could put faith that, that was good with him. Filling that silence with wisecracks and jokes that fell flat more often than not. Sitting on the rooftop after school, and ranting about something, just to have nods of understanding. So small, and minuscule… it meant more than even he, himself could comprehend.

Terrible puns got the tiniest smiles from the guy, and Ryuji felt the need to use that as a reward. Being himself, being the jokester, and having it pay off with such a wonderful expression was such a nice payback. 

They hadn’t shared numbers, or ever went farther than what they’d learned about each other in therapy. Even as the time for the next meeting approached, their friendship was odd, and he was perfectly okay with that. 

“Aye.” He’d waved, flopping down into the chair next to Kurusu, surveying the room again, like he hadn’t already looked it over a million times before. 

Looking over at Ryuji, and nodding as a greeting, Kurusu rested his elbows on his knees and audibly sighed, “There are a lot more people here tonight.” 

Ryuji looked around, and let his survey fall over the guys back, taking note of the small girl curled into herself at his side. Still distancing herself from Kurusu in leaning away, however, drawing attention to their closeness. Chairs scooted together unlike the others around the room, it had piqued his interest, even if he chose to ignore it.

That was, until a pair of eyes focused on him through the long hair shielding her. Warm coffee colored tones, putting off a calm and collected vibe, clashed with the mauve undertones of fear. Wild, yet composed. This girl was visibly nervous, frozen in their locked gaze, like the world was caving in, she shook with fear. 

Trying his best ‘I’m not a creep, please ignore my accidental staring,’ smile, he’d shown a brilliant grin, quirking up to show his teeth whether he knew it or not. Weakly sending her a wave with a halfhearted flick of his wrist. So sure she wasn’t at the last meeting (like he’d know if he wasn’t a freaking mess the whole time.) he wanted to try and make her feel welcome.

He watched as the world toppled down on himself now, embarrassed as she squawked and quickly buried her face into her knees, it was like that whole ‘caving in’ thing, had happened to him instead. Ceiling coming down and giving him a hard smack into reality. Almost afraid, almost overwhelmed, Ryuji was never good at reading people’s faces. 

“That’s Futaba.” 

Quickly jerking back to Kurusu, Ryuji made a small noise of question. Watching carefully as he sat up in his seat, and leaned back, tilting his head as a gesture towards the reserved girl. 

Surely, he could’ve learned more if the group leader hadn’t barged in. Practically screeching out his usual greeting at the teens. A couple of them, including the orange haired girl who’s name Ryuji, had already lost, jolted upright in shock. The dumb, and overly peppy leader in a too-tight shirt, prancing around the circle with a gleeful voice, and a face contorted into a beam. 

“Welcome children!” He shouted, teetering in the center of them all, “We have some new faces here!” 

Moving fast, he twisted and leaned in on Shiho, and Ryuji cringed as she just as quickly tilted away from him, “And!!! Some returning ones! Ohhhh! What an exciting turnout, right?!” 

Nobody answered, everyone was looking anywhere but the dude, and someone in his gaze crumpled into themselves. 

Yet, he still went on. Pointing directly at the orange haired girl. 

“Let’s start off with you, young lady!” He clapped, practically skipping to his chair, and ignoring how undone she was becoming.

Kurusu looked over to her in concern. Leaving Ryuji wondering, even more, watching him nod to her in confirmation. Being the push to get her to speak, and nudging her out of her little ball she’d made of herself. Where they related? Dating? Ryuji really couldn’t tell. 

“Heh.” She breathed. 

The long strands of orange-dyed hair that had covered her face, didn’t move when she began to speak. 

“I’m Sakura Futaba.” 

Ryuji joined the group in their hellos. Watching her frantic eyes shift around the room, and making a note in his head that, Kurusu and Sakura are different names. So. The thought of them being related was kinda scraped immediately. Not that the completely different features they had told anything. Or, you know, the fact that Kurusu actually lives hours away, and is living with a stranger. 

“And. Ah… my mom... died. Or, um, killed herself.” She had shown obvious discomfort with the confession, “And, I often blame myself.” 

Sakura shrugged, “I'm a burden to a family friend who I was forced to live with. No other family. I’ve shut myself in.. you know… until I had to come here.” 

“I too, have lost my mother.” 

She picked up her head, furrowing her brow, and squinting, even through her glasses, across the room. A tall boy sat, poise and almost as elegant as far as sitting could take it. 

“Then why don’t you go next?” The leader seemed far too excited for someone learning about something as tragic as parent death. 

Ryuji was beginning to see a pattern here with the greetings. And he may have made it a mental note to never speak during the sessions again, just to spare him from the depressing story time. And make sure he was never put on the spot again. 

The guy arched his brow, legs crossed over each other, he practically screamed, “I’m sophisticated and too good for all of you.” But, who was Ryuji to guess? He couldn’t possibly tell a fancy person from a real one, and, again, assuming really wasn’t his forte.

“Hello, I am Kitagawa Yusuke, it’s nice to meet you all.” He waved his hand, and acknowledged the chorus of ‘hi’s and hellos.’

“I am an art student. And, as you recently heard, my mother has passed away.” 

He swept his bangs aside, crossing his arms and leaning back into the chair with far much more poise than there should’ve been, “I’ve lived with my mentor. But- ah- that has been slightly rocky as of late.” 

The fiery-haired girl has perked up slightly. Ryuji catching the small bit of comparison that blossomed in her face. Lighting up as much as she could with the situation at hand, obviously jittery with a hint of joy at being able to empathize with someone else. Kurusu caught his distracted staring and smiled when he looked over too, fondness sprinkled in his comforting gaze.

With all the things that weren’t Ryuji’s cup of tea, he was sure jealousy had been checked somewhere on the list. Upset at himself for being so uptight over someone else sharing happiness, that he didn’t, and wouldn’t ever have that. 

Happiness, to him, came in short bursts. It never stuck, always fell and drove the misery even further. The genuine way his newfound friend had always smiled proved something Ryuji wasn’t quite sure he’d really figured out.

It was no competition of shitty lives, but, Kurusu’s was pretty shitty. And maybe, if his friend could still flash a grin, and find something to cheer him up, Ryuji could too. Someday, recover the joys of life, smile without regretting it, and stop worrying about what everyone in the world had felt about him. He just hoped, someday was soon. 

With the final person telling their own story, Ryuji failed to realize the meeting was over. Coming to his senses at a kick to his leg, and a warm presence standing in front of him, Kurusu patiently waiting for him to get back to Earth. 

The lack of Futaba had dawned on him just as soon as he’d spotted her vibrant appearance across the room. Stood by the door, making herself small as she talked to the guy from earlier in the meeting. His wild hand movements causing her to lean away, still actually interested in what was being said to her.

“You uh,” Ryuji looked over his shoulder at Futaba’s annoyed expression after moving closer to the exit, the artist towering over her still, “You’re really good with her.” 

Kurusu suddenly stopped focusing on whatever it was he’d been caught up within the first place. Mouth hanging open slightly, eyebrows full of question, “What?” 

“Nothin’ man, it’s jus’... you’re really good at dealing with her.” His bright yellow shoe made contact with the dirty tile when he’d kicked the ground, “It’s cool she can have someone to rely on in all this bullshit.” 

“Life is pretty shitty, isn’t it?” He’d pressed his lips together in a hard line, and Ryuji swore, that if he looked a bit closer, he’d be able to see the light scarlet on his cheeks better, “I just thought, maybe, she needed someone to help her.” 

What Ryuji would’ve given to have that type of support when he was going through the absolute worst parts of his life. Instead of sitting for hours watching his video game characters fall into pits, and get slain from his carelessness. So lazy, limbs numb, matching his empty thoughts, thumb just lazily moving the joysticks without even noticing. 

It would be hard to imagine someone besides his mom willing to let Ryuji take up their time. Someone like Kurusu, with the slight smirks, and the small jokes. The teasing that didn’t mean anything, and the light touches that bring about goosebumps of intimacy… 

Of course not in that way! God, he’d embarrassed himself beyond belief by just thinking. But he wasn’t wrong! The small gesture of the slender fingers finding their way on his arm to say something had meant so much. The playful shoves to his shoulder when he’d said a really bad joke, they’d all counted towards something so important to him. 

If maybe, Kurusu had been there at the start, the pain in his leg wouldn’t be a constant reminder of his failures. Maybe the guy could have convinced Ryuji to do the physical therapy he was suggested. Just being there would’ve changed everything for the better, to have someone who believed in you the way Kurusu believed, and encouraged Futaba. 

“I envy her in that sense, man. Wish I had someone as great as you,” Ryuji lightly chuckled, and immediately regretted letting his slight jealousy be shown, “I mean- like- hah. You know what I’m gettin’ at, right, Kurusu?” 

Swallowing hard, and shoving his fists into his pockets, the blond watched his friends face for feedback on his screwed up words. Doing everything in his power to not let his leg get jittery under the pressure. He was immensely afraid of scaring Kurusu off, and the way he’d stiffened at Ryuji’s statement, was terrifying him. 

Distant, he could hear the conversation between Kitagawa and Futaba start to taper off as the other across from him smiled. One Ryuji had seen before. With the quirks of his lips, the small bit of teeth showing through and letting the dimples appear. It was practically a muscle relaxer for Ryuji's leg, no longer straining to shake.

The long lashes fell upon his cheek so elegantly, “I know,” and his eyes opened with such grace when he’d rolled his head to the side, “And, please, Ryuji. Call me Akira, okay?”

As much as he’d been afraid to, Ryuji couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face. Even as the familiar flash of blonde shot him an angered glare, gripping Shiho's sleeve as they’d left the building. Somehow, the warmth never left him, “You’ve got it, man… thanks.”


	4. Chapter 4

Really, he should’ve expected something like this. Happiness didn’t last long in his life. Things were going too good for him, and he should’ve realized that the moment he started to have hopes and dreams again.

There was no more room to escape. No way to back up any further from the monster looming over him. He was stuck. Stuck, and cornered, and completely scared out of his mind. Crumbling in on himself, undeniably hopeless and weak, Ryuji had fallen under his shadow. 

Kamoshida smelled of sweat and those shitty tree air fresheners that he’d always kept in his office. Big ugly face looming over him with the nasty smirk he’d always worn. Smug, and so fueled by the fear of others, it burned Ryuji to look at it. Almost perfectly mimicking the face he’d made when Ryuji was being hauled away on a stretcher, proud of his actions, and taunting with his devilish grin. 

Ryuji hadn’t done anything for this particular situation to happen. He was waiting for Akira, mulling around until the gruff man brought him to an empty corridor. Trapping him, and leering at him for no plausible reason.

“Sakamoto.” He said, all too friendly for Ryuji's liking, but leaning back slightly to his relief. 

“What do you want you old perv?” He’d sneered back, diving straight into defense, and uncaring about the hammering in his heart. The adrenaline of terror and excitement of his own harsh words sending tremors to his chest. 

He continued, squinting up, and showing off his own smile, “You here to abuse any more students? Or, are you just bored because a sick twat like you can’t find any little girls to harass?” 

Ryuji knew all too well that what he was doing was not right by any means. Taunting was never something he was fond of, but, here we was. Waving meat in front of the beast, and letting his actions hold no recognition with the word, “consequences.” 

If the wall wasn’t already close, the force of his head slamming back into it with one hard shove was enough to show it. The throbbing pain immediately rushing to his temples, clutching at the back of his head as he winched and doubled over himself. 

Having your skull hit a brick wall sure wasn’t pleasant. And adding an assholes sly smirk, spreading like a disease across his face made the growing headache much worse. The sound of his head hitting against the wall behind him echoing out of the one spot that hurt the most on his now bruised scalp. 

“Being snarky gets you nowhere kid.” He bent down, low enough level to connect gazes with Ryuji, breath so close, everything too close for him to even handle. 

Ringing began in his head. Whether it be the warning signs of what was to come, or the actions of what had happened in the past coming back in seismic waves. He knew it wasn’t a pleasant way to feel at all. 

It hurt like hell. And now he’d wedged himself into a deeper hole. Weak under Kamoshida, trapped by his grossly large body, and probable concussion threatening with his aching head. He was stuck in hell again, because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. 

Just as he had gotten his bearings, he felt thick fingers grip his shirt. Bringing him back up, and leaving him practically dangling in the air, kicking as best he could as the tip of his shoe barely scraped the ground. Ugly, pudgy eyes staring back at him with such malice.

The fabric of his t-shirt dug into the back of his neck. Accompanying the frantic breaths emerging from his tight chest, and joining the dull pain in his head. 

He was done for. This was it. He was going to get some punishment worse than ever before. He was going to-

“Mr. Kamoshida-“ 

Ryuji was dropped to the ground, thoughts of his own demise disappearing into the void. Collapsing into a heap of deep breaths. Desperate to get as much air as possible to run when the bastard turned away. 

Except. He got caught up on the face to the interruption. Freezing in his broken state, sprawled on the dirty tile, hands supporting himself as his head hung low. 

“Um. Ms. Kawakami wanted to see you.” The blond coiled in at his voice. Such etiquette, so smooth, just like confronting someone as menacing as Kamoshida, was an easy feat. 

He could hear the man above him adjust his shirt collar. Ready to go have the teacher swoon over him, to feed his ego even more than beating Ryuji had just given him. The nauseating presence had left along with the coach, and it left a broken, awkward distance between Ryuji, and Kurusu. 

If he could, he’d let the ground swallow him whole. Rather than dealing with the sympathetic gaze he was under right now. Rather than letting himself feel all the lead in his blood weigh him down. He was defeated and pathetic. And now, his friend stood at the foot of it all, watching as Ryuji let his eyes squeeze shut, and sit back into the horrible pain in his head. 

Kurusu was always collected. It was evident when he’d stepped closer, standing over Ryuji with a different purpose than the one who stood there before him. The blond looking up through his misery, and catching no signs of hesitation within the porcelain face pointed down at him. 

“You ain’t gotta pity me, Kurusu.” He tried not to grit his teeth as he collected his knees up into his chest. 

Nudging the boy with his foot, the mop of hair moved with the shake of his head, “I told you to call me Akira... and I’m not.” 

Ryuji looked up at the hand extended out towards him, puzzled at the denial, and taking it, he struggled against his wobbly leg as he stood up. Face to face with the gentle smile of someone he’d gotten to know better each and every day. 

“How about we go get something to eat?” He asked, finally dropping their hands, and quickly letting his eyes fall to the floor, “Get us out of this hell hole…” 

With a curt nod, and heat of embarrassment still fresh in on his face, the blond let Akira lead the way. Shuffling away from the spot Ryuji swore he was going to die in, and leaving behind the whole situation. The look on Ryuji's face practically begged Akira to not say a word, eyes downcast and hooded by grief. He understood, even if he didn’t necessarily enjoy it, he’d learned it was something that was a part of his life now. 

Ignoring something was one thing, he’d been good at that up until he decided to pay attention and had gotten arrested. But pretending something never happened was what had brought him here in the first place. And, to say the very least, it was hard to get used to. 

It was only when they’d reached the actual sunny skies (for once) outside the front gates that someone spoke again. The unplanned silence being broken as they’d started towards some diner Akira found online ages ago. Ryuji sighing into the open air, “Heh, and people wonder why I called him Kamoshitty.” 

“Shitty?” Akira sputtered a response, letting a smile of relief weave its way into their conversation, “I’d try some fancy word like, ‘ghastly,’ but he doesn’t deserve fancy.” 

A small snort came from Ryuji, “He really is an asshole.” 

For not knowing much in life, Ryuji did, however, have advanced knowledge on synonyms for, ‘shitty,’ as they’d both discovered. Making their way to the restaurant, side by side, sun bouncing off his bleached out hair, the day was bright. The day was full of possibilities that Ryuji might’ve not been able to see if it weren’t for Akira. 

Blinding the pair as they ducked in between shadows and shade spots, the nice breeze sent Akira’s hair in all different directions, and Ryuji had to fight the urge to make fun of him for it. 

Kamoshida had begun to slowly slither back into his mind on their walk. Nearing the diner, the overwhelming feeling of dread by the feeling of grubby hands at his shirt collar. The whispers of his cruel words swaying back and forth in his head like the trees above him in the wind. 

Pressing his lips together in a hard line, everything about what had just happened started to bleed together. The way his head still pounded from being smashed into the wall, he could never tell Akira how much it hurt at that moment. It would ruin them hanging out, and that’s something Ryuji wasn’t quite fond of losing.

When they did get to the diner and sit down, however, Akira took no time in discussing what he’d saw.

Reaching across the table, and grabbing Ryuji's hand, (to which his breath hitched, because, Akira, was holding his hand,) he flipped them over. Palm up, his sleeve sliding up past his wrist, and he winced.

Unmistakable fingerprints had started to develop into bruises.

Hiding his own flinch wasn’t all that hard. The light touch to the marks so gentle and purposeful, each contact of his fingers to the darkened skin sending messages through his veins. Sparking, and projecting something soft and warm into his body, blood bubbling unsafely in his cheeks. 

These hands wouldn’t hurt him. And as they hovered over the imprints of ones that did, the reminder seemed far more relevant than before.

Letting go of Ryuji, Akira sat back. Both idly staring at the purple ovals pressed into his skin. Obvious signs pointing to a humans doing, Ryuji immediately felt awful, shrinking down in his seat and trying to avoid the sympathetic gaze directed towards him. 

Akira wasn’t there when it started.

Akira didn’t witness Kamoshida grab him, and drag him, squeezing his wrist tightly when he pinned him up against the wall. Trying to shake off the growing pain, the pressure of his grip began to cut circulation off to the rest of his arm. 

“All I was doin’, was walkin’ by.” Ryuji bowed his head, looking at his feet beneath the table, arms still displaying the freak show on his skin.

Sucking in all the air his lungs could manage, he brought his eyes back up, words caught in his mouth, “I… thank you, Akira. My other leg would probably be screwed up if you hadn’t stopped it.” 

“Ryuji, I wasn’t going to let anything like that happen to you.” 

The air fell still, and Ryuji shuddered under the silence. Letting those words sink in as they waited for their food, something as small as caring had left Ryuji speechless. 

“Well. Dude. If you’re ever in trouble, I’ll come and beat their ass.” He waved his hand around like threatening to fight someone was nothing. The pink that somehow still managed to make its way to his face, hidden by looking towards the ceiling.

Akira’s smile caught his eye again, “Thank you, Ryuji. I’m glad we met.” 

Flushing almost immediately, Ryuji realized he really needed to get a grip on that. Showing off his insecurities by blushing at every nice thing said to him was going to give away something It shouldn’t have. 

“Er,” he tried, scratching the back of his neck like the red marks he was probably making to his skin would give any hint of what to say. Placing his hands in his lap, and cringing at the reminder of the steadily growing purple to his wrist. 

“My mom… wants to meet you.” 

Oh god.

Oh god, why did he say that!? 

The waitress came by with a smile. Not picking up on the sour expression to Ryuji's face as she placed down their drinks and fries. Sucking in his bottom lip and sliding down in the booth the whole while Akira politely thanked her.

Picking up a fry, Akira looked over, catching Ryuji slowly drift beneath the table. Eyes crinkling at the half of the blond that was still visible. Twirling the fry between his fingers nonchalantly like he had with his pens at school. Ryuji had always thought they were nervous quirks, like when he’d twist his hair between his fingers at the meetings. But, with how often his fingers were busy, he’d chalked it up to being second nature.

“I’d love to meet her.” He said, popping the fry into his mouth before continuing, “What are you doing?”

Ryuji froze on his descent to the underworld beneath the table. Quickly shooting up to sit correctly in their booth, and sending an apologizing look to the old couple who had gave him the side eye.

Fumbling, he ran a hand through his hair, “Force of habit? I dunno.” 

The little eye roll he received would’ve gotten a kick to their leg underneath the table. But, it was Akira, and he was an exception from the rest of the world. 

With a few seconds passing by, Akira took his attention to the window. Watching as the busy people passed by, cars slowly moving in the heavy traffic. The sun caught his glasses, and laid across the wisps of fluff that couldn’t be tamed. The warm brown coming from the sunlit highlights made him look all the more wonderful. 

Eyes following a group of kids that sprinted past the glass, he spoke again, “What’s she like, Ryuji? Your mom?” 

“Oh, geez. I could go on forever about her, Akira. She’s literally the best.” He grinned wide, thinking back to the gentleness of the one person who would love him through all his mistakes. 

“She’s got this look. Ya know? It can calm me down, and scare the shit out of me all at once,” he laughed to himself at the remembrance of all the times he’d gotten the stern glare, “She’s been through so much, and she’s still kept that light inside her that’s always made her special.” 

Akira nodded back to him, and Ryuji felt all too talkative, “What about you, man? What are your parents like?” 

Like nothing, his expression changed. Falling, and losing its radiance, Ryuji internally slapped himself for not thinking about his questions. Random stuff that spewed out without second thought, he knew from group therapy that Akira didn’t have the best home life. 

“They were quite awful,” he took a deep breath, propping himself up on an elbow as he unconsciously swirled a french fry in ketchup, “They haven’t called me since I’ve came here… and the fact that they even sent me here in the first place?..” 

Dumb dumb dumb. Ryuji touched on possibly the worst subject.

“But,” He said, and the other immediately perked up.

Letting the soft smile weave its way into his lips again, he glanced up, “My caretaker here, Sojiro, he’s… he’s pretty cool. He taught me how to make curry last week.”

“C-Curry!” He stumbled through his words at yet another roller coaster of a conversation, “My ma never makes curry, she don’t like the taste… I bet yours is great though. I’d like to try it.” 

Now it was Akira’s turn to become flustered, coiling in on himself as he suddenly became bashful, “Oh well, ah. It’s not all that grand-“ 

“Sure it is!” Ryuji insisted, wincing a bit at the sharp pain in his wrist with him bracing the table, “I ain’t all too good at readin’ people, but I do know you’re being modest, dude.” 

Flipping the situation to try and become smooth again, Akira shook his head, lips pressed firmly together. Like he was about to blow his head off with embarrassment, Ryuji could practically see the anguish form in seconds, “What about you! You can cook right!?” 

If he was being defensive, and trying to milk some sort of denial out of him, he wouldn’t be getting it any time soon. 

“Sure. I’d say I’m pretty good, to toot my own horn.” He grinned, watching Akira’s jaw go slack, defeated in his attempt.

Out of everything, Ryuji would give himself the benefit of the doubt, and call himself a nice cook. 

He could make dinner for his mom, steam some veggies, make some special noodles with a sauce recipe he found online. Sometimes making little symbols out of the food to the best of his ability, like he’d seen in some of the cutesy-themed restaurants around Tokyo. Patting himself on the back more times than not, to see the joy and genuine gratefulness in his mother’s eyes. 

With a couple more attempts to jab each other with compliments (to immediately deny those compliments, actually,) more and more, Ryuji felt the need to recognize what this meant for him.

He could’ve died earlier, and, as it was Kamoshida he’d be speaking of, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration. His head still rung at the feeling of the brick to his skull, and his wrists ached at the memory of the unkind hands. 

But, here he sat, laughing in some restaurant with the guy who saved him. The transfer student with the criminal record who was a walking rumor generator, had stopped the assault. Had lied straight to the monsters face with ease. 

But again, surveying the situation at hand, the big bad kid who everyone talked crap about, was drawing smiley faces in the ketchup. And the delinquent, (first time he’d ever actually called himself that) stuck fries in his lips and casually pretended to be a walrus. 

Muffled by the food shoved in his upper lip, and overwhelmed at the scene that displayed before him. 

Ryuji could actually say, for once, that he was having a good time, with someone who thought his potato husks were legitimately funny.

A friend.


	5. Chapter 5

“Shiho's not here.” Ryuji pointed out, drawing his attention away from Yusuke and Futaba arguing about some silly thing. Akira dropping his interest in the bickering to look over. 

Furrowing his brow, Akira sat properly in his chair, “That’s strange, I saw her after school today. I hope she didn’t get ill or anything.” 

Letting his attention drift back over, he noticed the faint frown to Akira’s face. The one reminiscent of their first days in the group therapy session, dull look in his eyes as he fiddled with his fingers in his lap. 

“Oh,” he tried, nudging Akira to get him out of the weird state, “Look, its Niijima, that class president girl?”

Glancing over, and nodding with a wobbly grin, the obvious discomfort in his expression had struck something in Ryuji. Did he do something wrong? Was Akira okay? 

Futaba was getting along with someone, she wasn’t being as reclusive as before. She had a friend, she’s laughing, and he could swear it’s something Akira should be elated for. Happy that she’s come out of her shell. 

For hell's sake, Yusuke even joined their little part of the circle. Moving next to them, and adding another to the, ‘we made friends at group therapy,’ clique. 

And yet, there he sat. Almost sulking in a way, closed in on himself, and avoiding looking anywhere but his lap. What had happened? 

All the rather depressing words spoken by frail kids fell flat to Akira. Sitting, busy with his fingers. The habit itself, making Ryuji's leg twitch with the familiar feeling of tight nerves. 

He wanted to ask, but didn’t want to intrude. 

Akira helped him the day before, so why was he finding it so difficult to return that favor? 

“Hello all, I am Niijima Makoto,” 

He noticed both Futaba and Yusuke look up, the voice different from the broken ones before her. Ryuji trying his best not to be bothered by the darker look in his friend’s eyes.

Looking towards her, he made sure to not go overboard on his expressions, and tried desperately to be neutral when, “Hello Niijima,” began to be repeated over and over in the off-key harmony of voices. 

“I am the student body president of Shujin Academy… to which I take pride in very much.” Her smile began to fade, and Ryuji began to ache even more at the despair finding its way to her features. All he knew about her, was her popularity and smarts… and the fact that she turned her cheek to the incessant bullying around school. But alas, his opinions on his peers always seemed to change when they opened their mouths here.

This place really didn’t like him holding grudges, huh? 

Sighing, she hung her head slightly, shielded by her hair, and hidden from the eyes around her, “But, ah. I guess my studies and involvement is a distraction from my home life.” 

“I do not have a mother, nor father, around. My father passed when I was young, and it was… rather traumatic for my sister and I.” The way her face scrunched up reminded Ryuji of his own actions, because, yeah, talking about the past hurt. 

The physical and emotional pain was inflicted on the skin of her thighs. Finely trimmed nails dug into her skirt, something sadly familiar in tense conversations, Ryuji can remember when he drew blood from squeezing too tight once, a small tear to flesh out of nervousness. He could also remember, when Shiho did the same thing, way back at the first meeting.

Catching a glimpse of Futaba grimacing, the look of resonance in her face went well with Yusuke’s. The realization of their stories setting in, he reasoned, that parents weren’t all that great in his social group.

“My sis raises me now. And… Sis works. She- ah, works a lot.” 

Grim and unrelenting, she didn’t fight her quivering lip, “I’m left alone. She’s never home, and when she is, she’s so engrossed in her work, me talking would result in getting scolded.” 

Ryuji looked to Akira, the nod he subconsciously gave, reminded Ryuji of the similarities between Akira and Nijima’s stories. Right then and there, the loneliness he’d felt had panged in his chest with her confessions. Knowing how hard it was to be alone, he never knew Niijima could have something in common with him.

As he was making plans to speak to her after the meeting, she finished, “We have problems at school, and my principal always expects me to handle them… sometimes, he doesn’t see the other, more pressing issues right in front of him. And it makes me feel awful, but, I need the good marks for scholarships....” 

And, oh boy. Shujin was a pretty shitty school, huh? 

Even the principal was skewed. Sending off some girl with a dream to be great, to do his dirty work. Ignoring the obvious problems, and ruining kids lives, one kick to the shin at a time.

Just like everyone, the look on her face when she was thrown away to listen to the next person, was awful. Snapping her mouth shut, and flexing her fingers in her skirt. 

The break in the mood came with some idiotic icebreaker game that brought out the embarrassment in most. Those with anxiety taking a backseat as those with grief talked about their favorite animals. 

It shifted into rather… tough territory as time went on, just as always. Tissues brought out along with tears.

And, again, it was over. Nothing necessarily gained from sitting and watching people sob in a circle. The ceiling far more interesting than the tears that streamed down their cheeks. The marks to some of their bodies making his wrist ache.

Running his fingers over the deep purple fingerprints, he muted the world away. Watching with no care, as people began to file out.

“Akira,” he had suddenly found the courage to call out, ignoring the group leader bouncing around the room to send off the crying children. 

He sat still. Toying with the string to his hoodie, like he was on the same planet Ryuji often found himself on. Spaced out, frowning, something of misery swirling in the color of his eyes.

“Akira,” he pressed, laying a hand to his shoulder gently, and watching with held breath as he turned his attention to Ryuji, lazy gaze drifting towards his bruised wrist as his sleeve rode up.

Swallowing his doubts, and letting air to his lungs, he let his own features fall, “Are you okay, dude?”

Almost as if he was shocked by the question, Akira began to cave in on himself. Shoulders hunching to send Ryuji's grip away. Downcast eyes staring at the tiled floor that hadn’t been cleaned in years, the grey storm clouds within his eyes threatening to bring down torrential rain.

Futaba and Yusuke stood up. Moving away from the pair with perfect timing. Just barely missing the shake of his head, and the broken, “No,” that escaped from his lips. 

“I ain’t no therapist, Akira, and I won’t pretend to be one. But, do you think you could tell me what’s going on?” 

The fluffy hair that was so tempting to rustle, swayed when he sat back into the chair. The avoidance techniques a memory to Ryuji. Touching on the past, when he’d purposely ignore those talking to him, uncomfortable under their stare. 

“My… my mom and dad-“ 

Dread filled him almost immediately. Like a truck hitting him head on, squashing his confidence to fix anything into the pavement, and mixing with the broken bits of his body. The driver not bothering to stop, and the realization of him being the cause of the parental topic began to set in.

If only he’d shut his mouth at the diner yesterday and didn’t mention them-

“They blocked my number. I- I haven’t called, because I figured they would, you know? So I tried yesterday, and it didn’t go through to either of their phones.” 

Finally looking up to Ryuji, he scrunched up his face, brows furrowed in some mix between sorrow, and anger, “I tried to rationalize that their phones were dead or something. And went downstairs to use the landline, and- heh- it was in the back of my mind- but-“ 

“They answered it. And I just stood…” 

Shaking his head, like denying it, and giving excuses could do much to change anything, Akira stilled, “How could I say anything to them? Why- why are they so fucking awful?”

Ryuji sat, registering the horrible situation into his brain. Wondering alongside his friend, just why his parents had to be terrible human beings? 

“Akira.”

Eyes, almost doe-like, and almost killing him to even look at, had glinted like one of those cheesy romance movies his mom watched. Sanguine stare burning holes into his inexperienced soul, and threatening to spread a wildfire to his throat. Closing up on him, and halting any way of speaking clearly to the optimism in his expression. 

Oh shit he didn’t know what to say, Akira was looking at him. What was he supposed to say? The hopefulness riddled throughout his appearance, the perk in his posture- Ryuji was fucked-

“They're shitty parents. Fuck them. They obviously don’t know what they’re missing out on, because a bomb-ass person like you only comes around once in a lifetime.” 

Oh god Ryuji you are a horrible person to take advice from. You were right about not being a therapist because who the hell would pay you-

He froze when a hand slapped his shoulder. Akira doubled over himself in his chair, face hidden from view.

What did he do? What did he do? How the hell is he gonna fix this now? Oh my god-

A loud snort stopped his thoughts, and he was brought back down to Earth. Widened eyes focused on the fist pressed to Akira’s mouth, hiding the growing smile, and covering the string of giggles that escaped through the coverage. 

“Ryuji, that-“ He stifled a laugh, glasses peeking through his hair, “That shouldn’t have helped as much as it did. Thank you.” 

Taken back, Ryuji let his mouth fall open, “Eh!? That actually worked? It was god awful!” 

“You could say anything to me, and I’d still appreciate it.” He grinned, still slightly worrying Ryuji on just how quick he bounced back to being airy. 

If something was wrong, Ryuji had known he’d built rapport in his friend. Akira could come to him, and the favor would be returned. But, everything could go deeper, couldn’t it? 

Surely, if his self confidence could do anything to back him up, he could at least try to assist. Trying was something he’d long gave up on. Ditching it for the mentality to simply let things go, face the facts, and carry on with the weight. 

Despite everything that had occurred the past weeks, Ryuji knew he couldn’t be healed so easily. The wounds were still fresh. The memories of cowering beneath those he should’ve trusted still stood. A barrier so close to being transparent enough to see the other side, being close enough to see if that grass really was green. 

The burden wouldn’t be eased with a few meetings and the snap of his fingers. And, he was pretty naive to go on thinking that for the last couple of days. Akira’s presence was like pressure to a gunshot wound. 

The pressure helped, but didn’t quite take away from the fact that he was shot in the first place. 

A gunshot wound formed from years and years of abuse. The blood of traumatic events seeping through the fingers of the fluffy haired friend he’d made. No gauze, no towels to stop the overflow of emotions, staining them both a deep red. The tourniquet of Akira’s caring demeanor and trust within Ryuji trying its best to stop it all. 

And woah- he was getting a bit too harsh here. 

“Are you two done being saps? Sojiro doesn’t want us out late, Akira.” Futaba broke through his trance, catching Ryuji off guard at just how slow time went when he went to the darker places in his head. 

For only speaking to the fiery headed girl a couple of times, she really became comfortable with teasing him. Bringing laughter from the depths carved by jokes that were said to bring him down. The lighthearted pokes and prods sending the tingling feeling of another he could call a friend. 

Yusuke, didn’t necessarily say much of anything to Akira and him. Just the occasional butt into conversations, and the time he talked Ryuji's ear off about the color theory while Futaba pulled Akira to go get snacks. 

If a tiny friend group were developing from this, Ryuji certainly wouldn’t be complaining. 

Maybe, that’s why his feet carried him towards the lone girl. Standing idly by the door, eyes fixed to the quiet streets beyond the building. The few cars that made their way down, taking a break in the quaint district nestled deep within Tokyo.

Hands clasped, posture something Ryuji would never have, Niijima planted herself away from everyone. And as Akira, Futaba, and Yusuke rushed to get to their trains on time, his wandering curiosity got the best of him. 

The way the dark blue from outside had laid on her face, made her scarlet colored eyes all the more fiery when they found the presence of the blond boy. Expression unchanging, she still got the, ‘what do you want’ message across with her stare.

Almost immediately, Ryuji felt self conscious. Stepping back a bit as he hunched his shoulders in defense, “Hey- Niijima. I’m not… I’m not sure if you know who I am but-“

With a blink, she stopped him. Furrowed brow to match, “Of course I know you, Sakamoto,” she narrowed her eyes upwards, staring at Ryuji's hair before he could even recoil, “How could I not?” 

“Right, uhm. Listen. This group therapy stuff brings out the best and worst in people,” the back of his neck suddenly grew itchy, “I guess it just took your experience to really let it all set in.” 

Shifting the blame was a cowards move, that almost everyone could relate to. All the times he’d felt disgusted with Ann, where just the displaced feelings he directed at her. Kamoshida manipulated her, just as well as principal Kobayakawa had to Makoto.

Holding a reward in front of the two, like taunting a starving dog. Adults took advantage of more and more kids as time went on it seemed. And almost everyone in the room could agree to it. 

Akira got all the charges that the stupid guy should’ve gotten for assaulting that woman. Akira was helping, he was reaching into his big, beautiful heart. Such an amazing guy could be brought down to such a depressing space. Akira was amazing, he was the best- and oh yeah he should stop thinking about him before his face flushed even more. 

Niijima got taken advantage of. As did Ryuji, and Yusuke, and Shiho…. and by god, if he didn’t make her part of their little clique.

“Shujin sucks ass. And there’s no possible way to blame anyone but the shitty adults that run it. Please, Niijima, don’t let anyone get to you… I did,” he gestured towards himself, “And look where it got me.” 

She went to shake her head, “Sakamoto, please-“

“No.” He stopped her, grimacing at the force he put into his words, “You know for a fact I’m not lying. Think about all the kids here, think about why you’re here. They’re horrible, and I want you to know that you don’t have to take their bullshit anymore.” 

Sighing, and unfolding her arms, the sternness in her features began to fade, “How could I possibly do that? My future is on the line.” 

“Just…” He searched for an answer, letting his eyes fall to the room. To the spots his friends always chose, “If you ever wanna take a break. Even if it’s a couple minutes, I’m sure the guys I met here wouldn’t mind.”

Before she could shoot back an answer, she paused. Words formed, but never spoke, the silence between the two grew… and he really didn’t see it as a bad thing.

The disgust he imagined at his proposition had never came. Focusing out the window into the empty street again, eyes tired, dreary weather highlighting the bags; he could’ve sworn the small smile that he spotted for a second could brighten a room. 

Annoyed, and a little bad at acting, she shrugged and folded her arms again, “Thank you for the offer.” 

The reflection in the glass gave Ryuji a glimpse of himself. Niijima looking through, him focusing on the surface. Wondering if it was as deep as he was making it out to be.

Vulnerable, pale, lanky. All the things a good, well-rounded guy shouldn’t be, mirrored back to him. The small bit of Niijima bringing out the human in him… he wondered if he’d ever truly see through all that glass.

A car pulled up, and she became alert, standing up straight, and smoothing out her shirt, she moved past Ryuji with no words. All the coldness from before coming back when she moved towards the door. 

But, again, she halted. Hesitant. Like the hinges where something perplexing, and trivial.

Hand hovering on the knob, she turned back towards Ryuji, letting the grin from before be known, “I’ll have to take you up on that.” 

And, maybe, he sincerely hoped for that. 

Spotting her the next day, the morning drag catching him and Akira in yawns. Passing her by, back in her reserved state as she spoke to some first years. Yesterday seemed like it hadn’t happened, like he didn’t dig deep into himself to cheer her up, and bring her from her shell.

The smile he flashed to her earned a quirk of the lips. A break to her facade, so small, that Akira hadn’t even noticed a change. Her demeanor back to serious in a matter of seconds as she returned to the conversation, disappearing from Ryuji’s view as they made their way up the stairs.

If that was a sign of any sort of change, he was happy for her. Excited- in a way, that she was able to actually get something worthwhile out of things he’d said. Most would’ve chalked up anything he said to be useless and annoying. 

For being a rainy couple of days, today seemed all the more gloomy. Dark clouds catching on everyone’s moods, it was as if the world shifted to the left that morning. Despite the rather nice day he’d had before, the prideful feeling within slowly trickling out of his body as they made their way up the stairs. 

“Something seems… odd.” Akira brought his gaze to the dirty windows in the corridor, stopping before their classes. 

Nodding along, the storm on the horizon threatened more than just the atmosphere, “I feel dumb for sayin’ stuff like this but… I get the feeling somethin’ bad is gonna happen.” 

“Not dumb,” He butted in, “Well placed. I can’t pin why it’s like this.” 

Biting back a laugh, he leaned on the windowsill. Mindlessly staring up to the ceiling as Akira stood silently, a few of their peers shuffling past with judgmental glances. The two ‘delinquents’ standing like any other student, had gotten used to the crappy treatment. 

The whispers didn’t bother Akira much. He looked forward at the sensitive sounds being thrown at them on a daily basis. Uncaring to the words filled with the intent to hurt, ignoring the rumors that floated around them when they stepped foot onto school grounds… and boy what Ryuji would give to be like that. 

If he didn’t already look like an idiot, walking around with his fingers in his ears to block out their harshness definitely would. Carelessly spoken about like he didn’t have feelings, that he didn’t hear the crude sayings. Akira, with his presence, and way of blocking out their hardness, made the process of getting through it all, just a bit more easier. 

“Would you like to go see a movie after school, Ryuji?” Akira had done his usual to break the twisting tracks below his train of thought. 

Watching a few people pass, he shrugged, rolling his head to look at his friend, “Sounds good to me. I’ll check what’s playing, and the showtimes. Mmkay?” 

Pushing off the wall with a signal of the bell, a pack of girls rushed by, filing into their classrooms with the others. Akira watching with his blank stare, their giggles echoing down the emptying hallways. 

“I’ll see you at lunch,” he waved, stepping into the flow of student traffic. His mess of hair still visible as it bounced in between people, Ryuji felt like a mother. Waiting for him to safely get into his classroom, as if he would go anywhere else. 

Figuring he should get going as well, he huffed as he weaved his way through. Practically diving out of the crowd, and letting the pent up air out as he made his way to his seat. Trying his best to ignore the few stares he’d received. 

Class had started sooner than he would’ve expected, and despite the grueling talking, Ryuji found himself to actually pay attention to what was being taught. Notes he wrote down akin to chicken scratch, he’d hoped he could remember any of it. 

Normally, he’d just daze off. Doodling things in his empty notebook, half-assing answers thrown at him. Somewhere distant he was listening enough to be able to do homework, a slot reserved in his busy head for equations and the basic facts he needed to pass. 

Now with Akira around, he was learning more. Actually studying, making an effort to be a little bit more than his usual below average. The perks of being friends with a smart guy, had brought a wave of knowledge. A wave, that could give him the smug satisfaction of answering a question correctly in front of the class. (That is, if he ignored the whispers that claimed he was cheating.) Education became more than a chore, like, a goal to Ryuji. To prove himself worthy of anyone but his peers and teachers. 

He wasn’t going to waste his pride on the assholes around him. Because, that was reserved for his mom, and for Akira. Seeing the way they genuinely felt happy for him to get good grades had compelled him to try harder. The wide grin and hug he’d received from his mother a giant reward next to the congratulatory fun he’d had with his friend. 

Once the lesson at hand had ended, and the teachers began to switch over, he took the free time to whip out his phone. Quickly searching for movies around them, and the times.

Far away, he’d heard the door to his classroom close. Scrolling through the times for some action flicks, skimming through the plots and reviews, finding them all to be sort-of lame. The search continued into the newest teaching. (even if he knew it would bite him in the ass later.)

Horror seemed like it had some good contenders… even if they had some later showings. Akira and him could hang for a bit-

Romance seemed to be the only ones to match up with their school schedule. The thought of the two watching some lovey dovey shit on the big screen, sitting so close… Ryuji felt his cheeks flush. Cursing at himself for being so easy to fall into visions one shouldn’t have about their friend. 

Thriller seemed to be a big contender- 

“What are you doing?” He heard from the teacher, prematurely flinching before looking up from his screen.

The scolding wasn’t directed at him, rather, than a boy sitting by the window. Stood up out of his desk, eyes wide at whatever was displayed before him. 

Soon, an array of gasps from the girls in the room fell around Ryuji. His feet already shaky enough as people bolted from their seats to the glass. Faces pressed against it, murmur of details hidden beneath the more louder students. 

“Everyone sit back down!” 

It fell on deaf ears. Ryuji finally making his way over, eyes scanning around for the subject of the disruption. Heart falling to his stomach as it caught upwards, a shriek of a girl next to him causing a headache to come to light. 

“What is so important to interrupt-“

One boy, hand previously pressed to his mouth in shock, was pointing out the window now, turning towards the teacher, “Someone’s gonna jump from the roof!” 

The same words were mirrored in the other classes. Continuous gasps and cries of fear at the information, nothing being done to prevent them from panic. 

Akira, had almost immediately thought of Ryuji. 

He stood from his seat like all the others around him. Glancing at the figure shadowed by the sun peeking through the clouds, and back to the blonde haired girl he’d heard so much of. The look of overwhelming horror growing on her face, she’d mumbled something quiet, and he didn’t really know if he wanted to hear it. 

Everyone began to whisper. Each word drawing the pigtailed girl further away from her desk. Lip quivering, icy blue eyes turning murky with the situation. 

Nobody expected Takamaki to scream bloody murder. And, nobody expected her to push past everyone in her wake, making a mad dash out into the hallway. 

Then again, expecting things weren’t their strongest suits, because nobody really expected Suzui Shiho to jump from the school's rooftop.


	6. Chapter 6

His mom had told him once, when some fish he’d won at a festival had died far too quick for his little heart, that dying was a part of life. He’d learned it more, when his grandmother died before he truly got to process those words. 

And for the most part, he understood her now. Life wasn’t fair to most, and neither was death. It presented itself as a prime example within him and all his horrible experiences. Life, or death, it all sucked. 

Maybe that’s why Shiho got stuck in between the two. 

Ryuji immediately paled. Backing away from his peers who looked to Suzui like some entertainment. Heart pumping all the blood away from his head, the dizziness that enveloped him had hit when he managed to get to the door. 

Leaning on the frame, his eyes fell forward, watching in agony as the girl who held so much anger sprinted past him. Tears staining her face as her hair flopped in the wind, loud sobs echoing down the hall. Going right along with the clacking of her boots to the floor, everything about her was loud. 

Everything about anything in that moment was overwhelming. His ears rung, his lungs refused to let any sort of air in. 

Suzui wasn’t at group therapy… Suzui said Kamoshida had tried to do things with her… did he? He had talked to her days ago. She was fine, she seemed to be doing better… what if he could’ve said something to prevent this? 

Was it his fault? Was he selfish for even thinking that? Was he selfish for not doing anything? 

“Ryuji!” He’d heard, just as he stumbled into the hallway. Hands braced against his knees, blinking rapidly to stop himself from stupidly crying. 

Light footsteps a sign of his friend, they where the most rushed he’d ever heard them. No usual elegant steps towards him, shoes scuffing the tile below their feet as he made his way to the blond. 

There were too many colors around. So wild, never ending spectrums of bright shades making his mind scream for something to block them all out. The awfulness of it all overwhelming him to the point of helplessness. 

Why was he like this? Suzui wasn’t- close to him. He shouldn’t feel as bad as he was feeling, the muffled speaking of his classmates seeping into his skin, and adding to the insanity boiling in his veins. 

Like it was natural, and not at all embarrassing or odd, he fell into the arms of Akira. A broken cry escaping from his trembling body, practically limp against the guy he’d just barely gotten to know. Would he scare him off? 

Really, he didn’t have time to think about that. Because the grip to his own jacket grew tighter when the classrooms filled with screams. The signal that Ryuji didn’t know he needed, scrunching up his eyes, and burying his face deeper into Akira’s shoulder. 

Their strange embrace went unnoticed as students began to flood the halls. Pushing the two closer to the wall, chatter and sniffles filling the space. 

“Sad this is what it takes to close down the school, huh?” The murmur passed by their ears. 

Down the corridor a bit, Ms. Kawakami’s voice shown through, directing the students to go nowhere near the courtyard. Go home. Leave. 

Removing himself from the hug, Ryuji rubbed his nose to his sleeve. Getting a glimpse of the worriedness written all over Akira’s face as he looked around. Brows furrowed, lips set in a wobbly line. Eyes red, a close second to the visible tears that streamed down Ryuji's face. 

He was embarrassing himself. 

It would be wrong to say he was overreacting… but something inside him snapped at the image of Suzui at the ledge. 

At one point, he’d pictured himself there. 

“Can… can uh, we go, Akira? I’m getting a bit freaked out here.” Ryuji had nervously laughed, cringing at the awful visions filling his mind. 

What a child he was… falling into Akira’s arms like some damsel in distress. Like a flimsy, emotional chick from a made-for-television romantic movie. Who was he anymore? 

And with a simple step into the flow of traffic, they were off. His peers around him pushing by like nothing had happened. 

The subway, to the back streets he didn’t know existed, the world seemed so disgusting at that moment. Nobody knew about the pain Suzui must’ve been going through. Nobody around them had acted sadly when a girl had just stepped from the roof to take her own life. How could the world work like this? How could everyone go on with their lives, blissfully unaware? 

What it must’ve felt like… what was going through her head? Was she scared? How far could she see from where her feet stood, and did she aim? 

According to all the greeting cards in the discount stores, “time heals all,” but didn’t that statement contradict itself? Time made her jump. Time had forced more and more weight onto her already bruised shoulders. If he could squeeze himself into the hourglass of his life, he would go back and move the grains of sand one by one, until he got to the point where he decided to do something. 

All thoughts began to slip and slide, and mindlessly following behind Akira, he’d forgotten where he truly was when they’d stopped. 

It read in elegant font, “Cafe LeBlanc,” and Ryuji quirked a brow at his friend. Why did he bring him all the way out here when there were plenty of coffee shops near Shujin?

“This is where I live,” Akira grinned at the confusion, tugging Ryuji by his sleeve despite his obvious protest for more details. 

When the bell chimed above his head, Ryuji glanced up. Staggering slightly in making it through the doorway as his eyes fell back down. Akira had moved aside, the black mess of curls he’d been staring at the whole walk to his friends home had moved from his field of vision, being replaced by a quaint cafe setting.

He blinked, like it would change the scenery. Opening them again, to show Akira hadn’t been pulling a prank. The small, unsure smile on his face collided with Ryuji's own thoughts.

Because, when the guy had told him his place of living was a bit odd, he certainly wouldn’t have expected to be standing in a cafe. If the overwhelming coffee smell that always came from Akira wasn’t a hint, he didn’t know what was. Reminding himself, that yes, he was indeed an idiot, and should probably pay more attention.

“This is Ryuji.” Akira had said, gesturing towards the boy standing in the door, and bringing him out of his insensible state. 

Jerking back into reality brought his gaze to the man standing behind the counter. Fearful, immediately, of the meer fact that he’d been there the whole time they stood. 

Really, Ryuji felt uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to any male guardianship, shaking at the thought, stiffening, and waiting for the man to say something back. Insult him for his appearance, to scold his friend for bringing a delinquent into his business. 

“Hello, Ryuji. It’s nice to meet you.” He’d nodded at the boy, and immediately looked back to the other, “Did you get your schoolwork done?” 

Akira had answered, but Ryuji couldn’t possibly hear what they were saying over the loudness of his own mind in his ears. 

For once, an adult didn’t look at him in with pure disgust. The man behind the counter hadn’t wrinkled his nose, or point at the bleached spikes upon his head. He simply smiled at him, the grin with no strings attached, shocked Ryuji to his core. 

“Come,” he motioned, wiping off a glass, “Sit, I’ll get drinks for you two freeloaders on the house.” 

Jolted again, he froze as Akira moved past him to the bar, sitting at a stool like nothing. Not noticing how unsure Ryuji was, still not over the fact that the gruff looking guy was actually kind. 

For a moment, life has seemed to feel a bit more comfortable. A warm mug in front of him, the orange glow all around him, soft hum of machines working in the back it was so serene. He could melt into the stool, watching Akira’s features, lovely set grin and all, as he drooped out of his seat.

Mr. Sakura stood, watching some ridiculous news cast on an old television, about unimportant things. Grunting and rolling his eyes at how ridiculous some of the stories on his screen were.

It was so easy to find his way to these situations. To mold, and dissolve into the atmosphere. Because, lord, he needed a break sometimes. 

But, sometimes, he found himself in a false hope, to where he’d become too comfortable.

That’s when his hand caught the glass. Catching on the ceramic, and sending it flying to the ground, everything seemed to go in slow motion. The overwhelming feeling of dread flooding his senses, and washing out any rationalized thinking. 

The sound of shattering glass made him flinch, hunching his shoulders up, trying to block it out. Eyes snapping open to a darkened room, one that he’d had so many nightmares about before.

Hopefully, time stood still on the outside of Ryuji’s hallucination, because the way he closed in on himself was embarrassing. Cowering back in fear as the deep blues of the fading sun let the television cast a flickering glow across the room. A towering shadow, something he’d long pushed aside, stood tall. Hovering over him with anger deep within his dark eyes. 

A bottle crashed beside him. A hand came down at him, and the world began to cave in. Walls suffocating him, glass digging into his elbows as he tried to crawl back and away from the mess in front of him. 

Small. Small. Small. He was so helpless, so pitiful, so damaged. Breath getting caught up in his throat as he tried to heave, to try and get air into the secondhand smoke filled lungs, collapsing in on him every second that went by. He was drowning in all the minuscule mistakes, the lifeboat miles away by the time he’d even noticed he couldn’t breathe. 

It kept getting closer, and closer. Dragging him in, making his chest tight-

And, just when the floor tried to swallow him whole, it was over, he blinked the darkness away. Coming back to the real world, one far away from where he’d came from. The warm, lovely cafe his friend had brought him to, had greeted him. 

Except, when he came back, he was sat on the floor. Akira crouched in front of him, wavering look of concern, searching for survivors in the wreckage of Ryujis face. 

“Aye kid,” the man from earlier had softly said, close by as well, and fading in as slowly as the background did, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Looking down at the floor now, he paled, realizing the soft hands of his friend on his own shaky ones. Hovering over broken glass, Ryuji could’ve guessed he tried cleaning with his own hands.

“I-“ he sat back, glancing up at the adult, “I’m so freakin’ sorry. Please- I’ll-“ 

Akira squeezed his hand, and he finally registered the tears rolling down his own cheeks in the reflection of his friends glasses. 

“Boss, you mind?” He gestured down at the shards around him with his head. Still gripping Ryuji with all his might as he slowly persuaded him up. 

Ryuji had seen the look of pity thrown at him when he began to be ushered away. Quickly focusing on his new task of moving up a flight of stairs with his hands bound in another’s. Practically dragged with his wobbly knees to a place he couldn’t quite see through his waterworks.

Before he knew it, his feet that had been sloppily moving the whole time hit something. Those fingers atop his sliding out of his grasp as he was guided onto a rather lumpy mattress. The area next to him sagging as Akira took his place in fixing his blubbering friend. Sniffling, and visibly traumatized from a surprise panic attack, those lovely fingers ghosted on his back, and he really wondered how odd it would be if he’d leaned into them.

“Ryuji, are you alright?” 

Blinking through a set of tears, he managed a look that screamed, “does it look like I’m alright?” 

Clicking his tongue, he scratched the back of his neck, “Ah- hah. You’re right, dumb question.”

Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand Ryuji averted his gaze to the crinkled up comforter in his free grasp, “Jeez. Feel like a effin’ old lady. Can’t do shit for myself.” 

“I needed you to help me up,” he turned back to his friend, catching the pinch of sympathy in his brow as he lowered his hand, “I already hobble around n’ shit, what’s next? Hearing aids?” 

They’d both sat there for a moment, sound of glasses clinking downstairs far more quiet than the ringing of embarrassment in Ryuji’s ears. Scarlet blush across his cheeks a side effect to all the stupidity of his situation.

Deft fingers tapped his shoulder, drawing his attention to Akira yet again. Grin reading mischievous as his eyes fell upon him. 

It took him a hot second to understand what he was doing. Scrunching his face up in question as the others mouth moved slowly, mouthing unidentifiable words at Ryuji. 

He was making it seem like Ryuji was actually deaf oh my-

Shoving his friend, he really couldn’t help the lighthearted laugh that erupted from him, “Quit it you jerk! Can’t even complain without ya actin’ like a smartass!”

Akira snickered, hiding his smile with his hand, “Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t help it… it cheered you up though, right?” 

Shrugging, and looking away from the eager face so close to his, he stopped his eye roll, “Yeah, I guess… still don’t change that yer an ass though.” 

And for just beginning to become close, having an encounter such as this, was so refreshing. So, different, than anything he’d ever expected to feel. Months ago, his mood was akin to dirt, all gross, all annoying. And now, he had someone close enough to rip him from a bad place with a gentle hand outstretched. 

Akira’s room finally started to seep into his attention. The old television in the corner, a beat up couch and a messy work desk. It didn’t particularly scream, “teenage boy,” but it did screech, “Akira.” 

It was weird, yes. But living in such a large room? Having a cafe below you, and living tucked away from any busyness of the real world. Something quaint, and calm, and all the things his dinky apartment could never be. 

There were no neighbors through the walls, bickering, keeping him up at night. This place was safe, and you could go out without the odd chance someone was going to mug you and take all the money you’d been saving up. There was no loud background noise of traffic, only the occasional conversation from a customer downstairs.

It was the type of place he’d find himself in for the next couple of days. A lovely, quaint, quiet, and so personal place to let him relax and hang out with his friend. Futaba popping in a few times to joke around or beat the two in some video game. 

LeBlanc was the kind of space that he’d wound up at most days after school. Whether it be accidentally following Akira with his own numb head, or on purpose with the promise to eat curry and do whatever had seemed to interest the two that day. 

He’d met up with Akira and Futaba there when the next meeting had suddenly rolled up on them. Balancing on his heels, hands shoved into his pockets as he waited outside the welcoming cafe with Futaba. Mindlessly watching her fingers move fast on her phone screen. His friend finally finishing up his work so he could join them. 

The way to group therapy felt so much better in the company of others. The small talk and interesting new scenery distracting him from the little voice in his head screaming about what would be spoken about this time.

Eyes immediately falling upon Suzui’s usual chair, Ryuji shuddered at the glimpse he’d gotten of her from his classroom that flashed in his head. The wind in her skirt, the breath caught in his throat, the way the world fell around him and how he’d somehow made it out before he could see any more. 

A small nudge and a quaint smile with all the intentions to show Ryuji it wasn’t pity, Futaba drew his attention back down to Earth. Her long hair swaying wildly around her as she gave him a nod full of understanding, everything about the movements so little, and all the more meaningful coming from her. 

Akira patted the chair next to him when they’d gotten far enough in to become more pale under the fading fluorescent lights above. Yusuke sending a wave his way when he’d took his seat. 

Before long, however, the chair that had no claim to it for the past few times he’d attended, had suddenly become occupied. 

“Hey, Sakamoto, I hope it’s alright if I sit here?” Niijima had said, avoiding his sudden attention to her as she became interested in the ceiling. 

He sent a small grin towards her, even if she couldn’t see, “Of course it is.” The group leader interrupting any other chance of conversation. 

His tight smile was nowhere to be seen. Eyes trailing around the room, only to fall upon the chair of the girl that therapy couldn’t quite save. Usual peppy moments stilled, expression downcast and almost as dreary as Tokyo deep in the spring. 

“This class is a tool to get you through the tougher parts of your lives. And, from all the stories we’ve heard, all the tips, questions, all the sharing…” he paused, giving Ryuji a surge of sympathy for the man he usually despised. 

He looked sad, a mirror to most people’s faces in the room. It was painful to admit that Ryuji would’ve much rather preferred the extremely excited leader, over one who stood with gloom spreading to the children around the room.

“They- they sometimes, aren’t quite enough for some. There’s a push they need to go a step further, and get more help.”

Sighing, he blinked back of what Ryuji would’ve guessed to be tears, “Suzui unfortunately was a part of that some, and had attempted suicide this week at school.” 

The silence became weighted with gasps and grimaces around him. The girls who came for the same reasons cringing and looking down to their feet, and anyone around the circle who ever even thought about it had closed their eyes in pain… him included. 

“But, we cannot let it settle. Before we go on as per usual, I’d like for you all to make cards for Suzui by the next meeting. I know they’ve always cheered me, and others up in this type of situation.” 

Everyone nodded, and exchanged a few, low, words as the man in charge regained his composure. Although weak, and obviously flimsy, his smile finally gave off a comforting feeling. The upbeat version of who he was, was placed on the back burner as he faced the kids around him with a wobbly introduction into their meeting. 

As somber as somber could reach, they all sat still. A wave of relief finally washing over the frequent people who attended, that a session could finally make room to heal, instead of dumping it all out, and hoping for extra space. 

They’d done a breathing activity. Something Ryuji would’ve never guessed to happen in such a janky place. The realness of what it was supposed to feel like setting in.

“Hello everyone, it’s wonderful to be here,” a small voice found its way to the floor, a girl placed in pastels sat with her ankles crossed, so delicate with her words. Her large poofy hair rivaled Akira as she swept it out of her face, “I’m Okumura Haru.” 

Smiling, she focused on her tights, dainty fingers picking at something within the nylon, “You’re probably not familiar with Okumura… most aren’t. But, I guarantee you all know Big Bang Burger?” 

She’d earned nods, glancing up to catch their answers, “My father runs the company behind it.” 

Moments of his mom taking a little break from the battlefield that was their home had come back to him. Little hands wrapped in hers as they navigated the busy streets, the feeling of her firm grip, his blunt nail-bitten fingers holding on tight. 

Eyes wandered about the world. A small child in a huge city, his head always found its way upwards. Stumbling a few times, too busy looking to the tall buildings, or the passing shops. His mother's coat would ride up on her arm, and for a small second, he caught a glimpse of the purple around her wrist. 

His own stung at the memory. Small, he couldn’t place what those marks were. He’d just known, sometimes he had to stay in his room, directions from a fragile smile, telling him to cover his ears, and not open the door. 

Sometimes, on bad days, she’d take him to Big Bang Burger, his little body going all wild with excitement at what toy he’d might get. Tugging on his mom’s arm to point at what he’d like, seeing the rare beam she wore, his own toothy (or- lack-thereof, he was still losing them at that point) directed right back at her. The countless thank-you’s and giggles that escaped a distraction from the violence back at home. 

Although, for the most part, he stayed behind walls that muffled the screaming. Later on in life, he did open the door. Tired of the mindless hums he’d busy his mind with, bored of staring at manga he couldn’t quite read yet, and playing with his toys. 

At age ten, he uncovered his ears.

At age ten, he walked towards the frightening cries of his mother. Tiny heart beating, feet on the carpet trying their best not to make a sound. 

At age ten, he witnessed his father choking his mom in the kitchen. Her hair disheveled, face red, nails digging into the hands wrapped around her throat. 

And only then, did he learn how it’d felt to be on the harsh receiving end of his mother’s pain, and his father’s wrath.

And he’d gotten too dark again- 

“My father has neglected me for years. It’s disheartening that I’m closer to those he hired to clean our already spotless house. They know more about me than he ever would.” 

Biting her lip, she retracted a bit, “I shouldn’t be complaining.. I have everything I could possibly want. Money has bought me the best clothing, technology.. and relationships…” 

“That-” her pauses grew longer, shaky breaths loud in the quiet space, “That I’m not too thrilled about however. Ah- an arranged marriage to a successful man that my father would like to take over the company some day.” 

Okumura looked up. Blinking hard for a second, uncrossing her legs, and furrowing her brow. The former elegance shed away for the moment as she planted herself in a more serious state.

“I hate him.” She admitted firmly, almost as a conformation to her inner self about her views. Posture falling upon letting the words free, relief evident in her face, “I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate all of it. Every dumb meeting that’s taken away my time, every “not right now I’m busy,” every time I’ve been forced to be seen with that disgusting man my father dare call my fiancé!” 

Ryuji was taken back for a moment, unaware of the fire that could be held in such a sweet looking girl. Someone he swore he’d saw around Shujin before, a senior to him, a well-rounded girl who wouldn’t ever associate with the scum of the school like him. 

She’d spend time on the roof, secluded, and away, and only seen once by Ryuji. His stress sending him up those stairs to get it all out, he was witness to a delicate girl carrying a bag of soul around the corner like it was nothing. 

“My parents ignored me too, Okumura.” He’d heard next to him, turning to see the interest in Akira’s features. Something about her story obviously striking a match within him. 

Makoto raised her hand, acknowledging the pair, “I’m in the same situation with my sister… it can be a lonely place to be in, can’t it?” She asked, looking to the two with resonance. 

Her set frown began to fade. The distant weak smile they’d gotten from the gloomy group leader a sign of something quite good. Another person saved by a sad spell with something as small as speaking up. 

Whatever happened to being afraid to speak was then tossed away. The meeting ending, low murmur of kids filing out, trying to escape the prison walls of group therapy.

However, Ryuji stayed behind. Trailed by Makoto, following Akira, hearing Yusuke and Futaba shuffle their way into a little circle.

Okumura stood after loading pamphlets into her purse. The ones on the dusty table in the back that nobody had used in the entirety of these sessions. ‘Happy’ twenty-something year olds posing on the cover as teens who are uncomfortably grinning.

The type of pamphlet his mother got in the mail to even step foot in this hell hole. 

Swaying back and forth to an unheard tune, her grave showed in how smoothly she shifted. Light touches to unimportant papers she would never get a benefit from.

“Hiya,” Ryuji took the reins, getting deja vu from all the times he found himself in the same situation, “I’m Sakamoto.”

Twisting around, her soft grin grew, “Oh, why hello there, Sakamoto. It’s a pleasure to meet someone willing to talk to me here.” 

A pinch to his heart, he tried his best not to show how horrible what she’d just said had sounded to him, “My friends and I met that way, actually.”

Futaba waved, “It’s more helpful than I thought… but hey. I’m Sakura!” She excitedly pointed to Yusuke, his stone face expression looking down to her, “And this is Kitagawa! He’s an artist, and a good one at that.” 

Cupping her hands in front of her, she giggled, “I’m so joyful to learn about all of you. You’re quite the group of people.” 

“You go to Shujin, correct?” Makoto, the everso silent girl spoke up. Stepping from her line of formality to carry a conversation, “I’m sure I’ve seen you around, Okumura.” 

Nodding, her shoes clinked together in her small bit of giddiness. Something about her bubbliness made him think more than he normally did. Thoughts not weighted, not straying deep and dark and scary as they always had.

He grew up too quick- he had to- for his mom, for him. And, in some way, Okumura followed that too, standing in front of the group of strangers crowding around her with courage. 

“Haru, please, call me Haru.” 

If only he knew how to do that. To bring his own confidence out from where it died, buried deep in his heart… what would it take to drop it all and focus on lighter things. What would it take to smile as easily as the girl who went through her own difficulties did. 

“Hey… Haru,” Ryuji managed, cringing at the dive into first names, “Come hang with us at school sometime, okay? We’re always open to new friends.” 

The grin Akira sent his way, had sucked the air from his chest. Rosy pink lips quirked up slightly- enough to make him bite his own in his sudden embarrassment. 

With everyone that he’d slowly gathered in the past weeks. His chest tightened for Futaba, beat for Akira, let itself be heard for Makoto… was he being too sappy? 

“Of course I will, I’m so excited!” Haru exclaimed, giggling her way out of it, hiding her mouth with her hand as if laughter was scandalous. 

Was he going to actually have to admit group therapy was helping?


	7. Chapter 7

It had begun to rain when Ryuji had stepped into school, the gap between the last group meeting to now, filled with constant hang-out sessions in Akira’s room. He was tired. Usually it was just the two boys, bickering over some dumb movie plot, or screeching as loudly as the cafe would allow them to about a video game. But last night, Futaba brought over Yusuke, and the conversation dragged on until the last trains ran.

School was another thing, Haru legitimately taking them up on their offer, and regularly talking to them. The bounce in her step bringing up any sour mood she walked upon.

Akira walked beside him, shoes squeaking on the tile as they made their way to class. His scowl a result of the weather, and untamable hair, sometimes, Ryuji swore he was a cat. Hating the rain, the feline within him shone bright on dreary days.

But… it didn’t on the day Ryuji decided to cut through the courtyard.

Spotting Haru and Akira, he was ready to call out and jog over, chat a bit before class had started. Tell them about the awful-but-brief eye contact he had with Kamoshida.

But the two boys standing in front of them sent a bad taste to his mouth. Their snide remarks bouncing off the walls of the open area, and projecting to Ryuji.

“Daddy wouldn’t like his sweet little girl to be hanging out with a bunch of low-life delinquents, now would he?” They sneered, voices echoing through the courtyard, Ryuji slowly moving in like the storm clouds above.

One pushed Akira in the shoulder, and if it weren’t for his friends ability to stay collected and unphased, he would’ve been there within seconds.

What did they do to deserve the bullshit being thrown to them? Who raised the boys heckling the two, and how could Ryuji find them and scold them for having such an awful child?

Scoffing, another shithead kicked dirt onto Akira’s shoes. His face still made of stone as the others looked for a rewarding expression. Not getting the reaction they craved, the word “criminal” had flew out of their mouths.

He couldn’t just stand there, now. It was impossible not to become involved… he wouldn’t just stand there now.

“Hey!” He called out, jogging over just as one of the awful guys shoved Akira back, quick on his feet to recover as they lay their attention towards him, “What the hell are you doing assholes?”

His friends looked more upset than he’d initially saw. Coming upon the quivering lip of Haru, and the defiant scowl to Akira. Ryuji's heart seized up, all his courage slipping away as the two boys turned towards him.

Sure, they didn’t look much tougher than Ryuji, but it was two against one. And, that one just so happened to be weak in one leg, and underprepared in all the rest of his body. Not touching the gym in months, not going for runs…

“Aww, is the little cripple gonna protect his friends?” The taller one had spat, snide grin to finish off the unnecessarily harsh words,

The other shrugged, “I dunno. I heard he couldn’t even protect his mom from his old man.”

Oh, _ouch_. He internally cringed, memories of what Kamoshida dared to say to him flooding back. Drowning out any sense of courage he had when coming up upon them.

Akira and Haru stood silently behind them. The insults pelting Ryuji like hail, he took it. He took the awful remarks, and he waited for the ounce of self confidence he needed to propel himself into his own verbal attack.

It wasn’t like this was all new, so why was he acting like he didn’t know what to do? He’d been insulted and beaten down since he was small. Two assholes going after his friends, all he wanted to do was take their place. 

When he’d broken his leg, he was just a kid. Holding copious amounts of heavy armor he never knew what to do with. Struggling against the metal straining his arms, dropping it all as the teacher bore down on his thigh… watching it disappear as the horrid pain blossomed from the exact moment his bone had decided to break.

Maybe, he wasn’t that helpless kid anymore. His friend sending him a look of reassurance, as if the armor from before materialized by his feet.

Faltering. It wasn’t rusty, his confidence in himself and his ability enough to even see it in the first place. The heap of metal shiny and inviting...

He picked it up, slowly. Like regaining his composure and this time, it fit.

“You sick fucks get some pleasure out of berating people? Eh?” He spat, squinting up to their repulsive faces.

They blinked. Almost faltering themselves in deciding on what to say next. Obviously thrown off by his choice to return the flame.

One had laughed, the chuckle causing his whole body to shake in amusement, “Oh, you’re such a pity, Sakamoto. Such a waste of potential!”

The other had nudged his friend, “Isn’t he pathetic? Did your daddy hit you so hard you forgot how worthless you really are?”

 _Damn_ these guys are assholes-

But again, he had to convince himself that he knew how to deal. He was used to this.

Sure, those ruthless words were so harsh, like knives digging deep into skin. Penetrating everything he hated of himself, pulling out his insides, and forcing him to look at them. Maybe he thought situations like this would disappear, his life going great as of late, that the feeling of being ruthlessly insulted far away. He wouldn’t possibly let all of it show. He couldn’t.

Ryuji stifled a laugh himself, eyes trained to his own friends. The direct contact made to Akira to send his message, finding it hard to display, “leave now,” with his pupils. He wanted them away, not involved and not hurt. A plan already forming in his mind, he knew something like it wouldn’t have gone over well with his friends. 

Akira hesitated, looking back to the two standing between him and Ryuji in question. Begging for answers with his eyes, Haru biting down on her bottom lip in contemplation.

Something of a pleading look, he stressed his directions. Switching back and forth between the bullies, and Akira as he tugged at Haru, and began to slink away.

Turning his head to focus on them, he narrowed his eyes.

He was alone now… he didn’t have a distraction, “Don’t you ever get tired of being douchebags? Ran out of underclassman girls to try and harass into dating you? Wanna switch it up a bit, huh?”

Taken back by his sudden burst of energy, they traded sceptical looks. Zeroing in on Ryuji in a matter of seconds.

“Aw shut the fuck up dipshit. Trying to be self-righteous and all that. Nothing’s gonna change the past, Sakamoto. You’re still a worthless sack of shit. No wonder Kamoshida fucked up your leg on purpose, dumbass, you deserved it.” Ryuji found himself stepping back, the space between them growing smaller as they spewed hate.

All the awful words being thrown at him weren’t anything he hadn’t heard before. These were like spitballs compared to the stones that where chucked at him back then. But, of course, that didn’t mean they still didn’t hurt.

Taking a deep breath in, he debated his options in his mind. He could try and solve this with conversation other than the one now, one with even harsher words he guaranteed his mother would scold him for. He was never good at speaking, unless it was defiantly, or rehearsed a bazillion times over and over in his head.

Running away was a good bet, but not a safe one if he were relying on his leg. It could buckle, and he could be dragged back. He’d cause more damage than needed, and who’s to say he could still run that fast?

Narrowing his gaze, he looked to them with everything he had, taking notice to the looming clouds above, and wondering if the weather was playing games with him. Surely the sun should come out one of these days.

“You know, I guess you’re right. Nothing's gonna change. Not at all if you keep acting like this. What do you want out of this? To feel better about yourself?”

His plan of action was decided as he put his arms out, “If you wanna feel so good about yourself, how about you take it out on me… go ahead. Hit me.”

The thin air between them was thickening slowly with the silence. Slight breeze and distant leaves rustling in the distance filling the space that words had recently occupied.

Maybe it was foolish but...

Once a punching bag, always a punching bag, right? It was just easier to get your frustrations out on another person, he’d known. He’d always been on the receiving end countless times. Berated, beaten, bruised and hurt, those things  never quite healed correctly.

Memories like the time his father punched him in the gut because he stood up for his mom. Similar to a boy in the locker room, a senpai angry that Ryuji had become too cocky and special. Like the moment he was fed up with Kamoshida, and subsequently paid for it.

Maybe this time, they’d actually halt. Pause and think about their actions, and the pain they could cause. Standing in front of one abused kid who just really, couldn’t catch a break...

But, his life wasn’t meant for ‘maybes.’

He was shoved to the ground. 

Landing on his side, and quickly remembering a load of times he’d found himself in this position, the world was put in slow motion for a moment. The boys above staring at him, grins and smiles so wicked.

Before he could yell out, the wind was kicked out of him. One boy mimicking a move his father had liked to frequently use as the tip of his shoe met with Ryujis stomach.

Physical pain was something he was beginning to forget. A memory gone with his scholarships, and leaving with his father. He’d never picture himself here, laying in the courtyard grass of the school, he thought the violence he would receive would be verbal from now on. Wrong in so many ways. Trying to sit up as best he could before a hand found his hair.

He was drug from the ground, roots screaming out to be let go of as his own fingers tried to pry the others away. Grimacing and fully expecting the slap to the face when he opened his eyes.

It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. And he deserved all of it, every bit of agony he had felt almost immediately. Not even halfway through the fight, and ready to quit. Another fast slap to his cheek.

A blow so hard, he fell to the dirt again, immediately attempting to stand. To get away from the stupid situation he quite literally asked for. The dumb, unfair fight he placed himself in, set up to lose from the start.

A foot met his head, and despite turning it, his nose still took a bit of the ground. Throbbing pain blossoming immediately as another kick came to his side, head ringing so badly, he hardly even felt it.

Where was Akira? Where did he go? Was he getting help? Was anyone going to come stop all of this, or would he take all of it as payment?

Rough, and aggressive, the taller one grabbed his wrist, a moment of fear flashing through him. Memories of what Kamoshida had just recently done to him taking up his tear-filled vision. Yanking him so he rolled over, focused on the sky, rather than the sneaker on his chest.

If he died, he would’ve never really gotten the chance to figure out his feelings for Akira… but was that really a bad thing? Would he even want someone as amazing as Akira to deal with how horrible Ryuji truly was? He’d probably be doing him a favor, his sadness over Ryuji would be temporary.

Death really didn’t sound all that bad when he thought about it now, head already pounding when a fist met his cheek. Maybe the boys would get punished for murdering him. The Kamoshida incident too much for them to cover in the first place, let these two assholes take the blame.

He’d given up on fighting the pair anymore. No freedom from the grunts of satisfaction above him, dirt kicked into his face. Laughter echoing in his ears.

A raindrop fell from the sky, and landed on Ryuji's aching cheek. Hoping the oncoming storm to be a means to get away from the assault he was receiving. Dragged by his shirt a bit farther up the courtyard before he was pushed back down forcefully.

Weak and brittle and suddenly becoming all the things anyone had ever said to him. He couldn’t will himself to actually care anymore. To actually attempt to escape, and seek shelter somewhere far away from here. His mother's embrace sounded nice when one of the boys had just spat in his face… but did he deserve something so wonderful?

Truly, he didn’t deserve such wonderful friends either. If he could really call them that. Telling them to run instead of asking them for help, couldn’t they see the situation? Was it hard to guess what was going to happen, or was Ryuji doomed to take it all. Akira far, far away by now, leaving the pathetic boy he’d met at some depressing group therapy to rot away into the neatly groomed grass.

The few raindrops turned to many, and his body grew more weak than expected.

It had started to storm by the time their legs got tired of striking his stomach. Ears exhausted of hearing the groans and cries of the stupid delinquent who asked for it all in the first place. Left by himself, to bathe in his twisted thoughts, and let his actions sink into his skin, they ran off.

Did Akira ever even like him, or did he feel bad? Would Akira run away if Ryuji were to confess any of his growing feelings?

God, he was pathetic.

He didn’t want to get up. He couldn’t will his limbs to move when the boys had been gone for a good while now, unable to tell himself to pick up the pieces of his pathetic self. So low, that lying face down in the muddy courtyard was what he truly thought he’d deserved. Everywhere hurting, leg screaming at him to put ice on it, to do something.

Truly, he hadn’t known where everyone had gone. The mud began to seep into his shirt by the time he’d even realized he was left truly alone, no lights from inside visible form his position on the ground. Arms glued to his sides, it was horrible he had to tell himself he at least had the dignity to not sink into the ground, even if he’d felt like he really deserved to.

Thinking that everything would be fine now, was reckless, and he’d ignored it. Happiness was in his grasp, and he leapt too far to get it. The cuts on his hands taking in the mucky earth, and stinging at the wet dirt working its way into his wounds. He was sure there was a blossoming bruise somewhere on his stomach after a couple relatively hard hits.

When it started to rain hard, he finally sat up. Looking at his formerly white shoes, setting his injured palms carefully on his thighs as the world seemed to pound him down. Head lifting up, staring into the sky, and wondering if black magic existed, and if whoever held his voodoo doll was tired of throwing him around yet.

Shoes popped back into his head, dreary eyes falling upon the various stains now painting them. Freezing in all the things he wasn’t doing. Bringing his knees to his chest, and resting his forehead to the damp fabric, fingers sending muddy water up his already soaked sides when they’d fell back to the ground.

This was when, he began to cry.

His mom, and Christmas had popped into his head. Opening the box to the rather expensive shoes, Ryuji was so guilty, and all the more excited. His first pair of real shoes, because all the track ones had given him bad thoughts, he never wore his old sneakers, desperate for something new.

And those white, clean, and costly high tops had brightened up his small world. They made such a difference, and he always thought he’d never do enough to make up for them. Actually sobbing with gratefulness in his mom’s arms after realizing all the sacrifices she’d probably went through just to give him a nice Christmas.

Now however, they were ruined. Tears upon seeing them so different than what it was months ago. He didn’t care about his wounds and aching body, he cared about the fact that he was horrible. That he’d ruined something his mother had gotten for him, something sentimental, something expensive. Feeling all the more guilty than the moment he’d tore open the box and first saw them.

He was so stupid for getting worked up over something like that. His health was more important than shoes for hell's sake, but there he sat, all bloody and bruised in the cold rain, crying about the ruined canvas.

“Ryuji?”

Immediately, he shot up head up, watery eyes meeting the grey ones darker than the sky that rained down on them. Flashing back momentarily to when he was found after Kamoshida decided a surprise attack was necessary.

Akira couldn’t deny the way his stomach had fell upon seeing his beaten up friend. Bloody nose still dripping down his face, matching in color to the small gash in his hairline, and the cut into his cheek. Knuckles bruised, fingers speckled with scratches and scarlet of torn skin.

He was soaked. Bleached hair flattened against his head, sinking into the mud he sat in. Akira was sure he’d spotted a rip in the seam of his pant leg before focusing back on the miserable gaze locked on him.

The tears trickling down his face weren’t hidden in the storm. Split lip wavering, he’d rubbed his eyes, and unknowingly spread mud across his cheeks. Moving closer to the boy sitting there before he’d even known it.

Akira bent down, and gripped his face without any second thoughts. Searching Ryuji’s eyes, the same ones who lit up at jokes, the same that seemed to sparkle when he’d smiled. Eyes now darkened, were puffy with his crying, forest fire within causing the charred remains of the wood and roughed up boy show itself.

How intimate it must’ve been. How good it must’ve been, with those fingers sprawling across the rough skin of Ryuji’s face. Akira sure hoped he would feel his sorrow through his fingertips as they’d held onto his dirty cheeks. The boy trying so hard to let the other know, that he wasn’t alone.

“Oh my- Ryuji.” he couldn’t even finish.

Ryuji nudged his hands away, and bowed his head, chucking like he’d done in most situations, with that usual half assed excuse, “I’m,” he choked on his words, “I’m so sorry. I’m- I’m fine. Please don’t be upset, please it’s all me-“

He interrupted his own self, “I’m just dumb, and impulsive. I’m… I jus’… thought if they’d gotten their anger out, they would leave all of you alone.”

Akira shook his head, “No, god no, Ryuji. You didn’t have to do this, you could’ve ran away-“

“I’m tired of running Akira. More than I’m tired of even being here, exhausted of all this bullshit life is chucking at me.” He snapped his eyes closed, and buried his palms into them.

Reaching out, a slender finger swiped above his lip, collecting the fresh blood trickling out of it. Silence between the two mixing well with the rain that fell around them.

“I’m sorry I left you, Ryuji.” He bit his bottom lip, and watched carefully as the blond furrowed his brows and looked from his hands skeptically.

“No, no it’s my fa-“

Putting a hand out, he stopped the denial, “Don’t say anything, okay? Let me apologize, I was careless. I was scared, and I only thought of myself, instead of someone so important to me.”

Ryuji seized up, frozen a moment. Letting the words process through his mind as he looked straight at Akira in confusion.

Someone so important to me? Was he joking? Why would he joke about something in a time like this?

And when Ryuji looked up, he went pale. Because, it didn’t matter that his own face was screwed up, that he had fresh tears streaming down his cheeks. Hell, the throbbing in his temples that sent waves of pain to his leg couldn’t possibly compare to how he’d felt.

Akira pressed his shirt to his nose, sniffling, trying in all his usual eccentricness, to hide.

The blond watched the red blotch on his collar fall back to his chest. Unaware that there was still a trickle coming to his lips.

“Why-“ Ryuji furrowed his brows, and brushed off his hands, “Why is your nose bleeding?”

Frantically, he wiped his nose again, bringing his hand back to view. Cringing at the blood he’d spread around on his skin before reluctantly turning towards Ryuji.

“They- I didn’t think they’d beat you-”

Ryuji began to stand, “That don’t mean shit, Akira. Why is your nose bleedin’?”

He lifted his shoulders and shielded his face from his friend, “I wanted to- it-.”

Stopping mid-sentence, and facing Ryuji with all the pent up frustrations he’d ever had, he looked straight into the worrying eyes, “You didn’t deserve to be hurt, and I just thought if I’d done something, it would be enough to get it to stop-“

“Oh…”

He nodded, “I didn’t do anything. You’ve gotta listen-“

“Wait, no. Akira!? You know how risky that is you jackass! You could get in so much trouble for fighting- oh god no- you didn’t need to do anythin’ like that. Oh my god it’s all my fault, I’m an awful person, I’m horrible. Why would you do that for scum like me, dude? What went through your mind to think sacrificing yourself would be okay. Jeez…” He began to ramble on without any sign of stopping. Akira forced to stand and watch his stumble over words.

They both froze in place for a moment. Akira just about ready to shake some sense into Ryuji to stop his misplaced thoughts.

“WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT, YOU ASSHOLES?” Was projected into the courtyard. Both boys directing their attention to the familiar set of pigtails moving with a feisty bout of anger.

Takamaki was standing a bit of a distance away from the two. Face twisted to match the fury of her wrath, hands gripping the collar of one of the boys that beat the shit out of Ryuji.

 _Takamaki?_ Why on earth would she be saying something like that? She hated Ryuji, she had scowled at him for the last two years, and held so much animosity between them.

“You’re horrible-“ he heard part of, an angry whisper now, “Ryuji doesn’t deserve-“ her free hand was pointing wildly, “fuck you.”

Mouth agape at her sudden care for Ryuji, he collected himself more. Focusing on her wild hand movements as she bounced around the two, his and Akira’s injuries forgotten for a moment. 

With a hand stuck out to Ryuji, Akira tried his best grin. Lopsided, and wonderful all the way, the way his hands felt against the cold ones that had been buried in the mud, was grand. So much different than the atmosphere beforehand.

“Let’s get out of the rain before you add a head cold or fever onto this situation.”

“They started after Haru, and began talking awfully about you, and I stepped in their way. Right before you got there, I was decked in the face, one got up close to her and…” he paused, looking up through his bangs, “I didn’t try anything that would get me in trouble. They just hit me instead.”

A weight was immediately taken off the injured boy’s shoulders. Visibly relieved, and all the more concerned that his friend was assaulted without a bit of provoking.

“Knowing Shujin, they’ll pin it on you.” Ryuji sighed, ready for the rain to diminish so they could at least leave without furthering the risk of getting sick.

“No, no they won’t.”

Both boys froze.

Turning just the slightest bit, they caught Makoto standing proudly. USB stick between her fingers, familiar puff of a pink coat clinging to Makoto's jacket, Haru holding on for dear life. The presidents face stern and set, it was hard to miss the tiny bit of smile pulling at her cheeks.

Haru dropped the suspense, along with her grip, unleashing her giddiness by covering her mouth to hide the squeals. The pep in her step clashing with the weather, it was a wonder if a rainbow would appear through the contrast.

“Niijima got ahold of the cameras!” She beamed, “We got footage of the boys harassing us!”

“I told you, call me Makoto- and yes. There’s audio too!”

Quirking up a brow, Ryuji tried to process what it truly meant, “And..?”

“They’re-“ Akira placed a hand to Ryujis arm and squeezed hard. The slight jump he did when they came face to face a glorious sight.

Big, genuine smile. No reserves, no grace and elegance in showing his teeth to him. Crooked and all the more wonderful, the rain in his lenses couldn’t possibly hide the joy in his eyes. Wonderful features  sending tremors to his heart, and heat to his cheeks. Not caring about the great news in that moment, and more on Akira’s expression.

It was perhaps, the most beautiful thing Ryuji had ever freakin’ seen.

It was so different from the normal, so refreshing and mood lifting. The weight on his arm causing him to realize how great the situation was, and to focus on the fact that Akira was touching him- oh god.

His face flushed as Akira bit down onto his lip, “They’re going to get in trouble, Ryuji. We’re-“ Akira interrupted his own self by smacking a hand over his mouth.

Ryuji seized up for a moment before reanimating, immediately excited, “Ah- Ah ha ha! They said shit about Kamoshida! They ratted the bastard out without thinking!”

Makoto nodded along, grin wide and presenting itself, “I’m going to show this to my sister. We’re going to take the action that always should’ve been taken.”

The celebration was glorious. The way Ryuji's heart fluttered at the velvety smooth laughs of Akira, the way he watched Makoto and Haru giggle right along with them. It was bittersweet. And for a moment, he felt the light airy feeling he thought he’d never feel.

In his mind the rain had stopped, and the world righted itself. All the agony he was in after being mercilessly beaten, was gone, and there they all stood, basking in the warmth of the finale.

The scenes you’d see in the movies. The final shots of a happy ending-

“Ryuji?”

The rain fell again, the church choir gone, and the realization that they were on a movie set had come to light. Everyone turned towards the voice. It surprised them, making the girl it came from uncomfortable.

Takamaki stood reserved, and scrunched in on herself. Hair damp from the rain, she rubbed her arm and shifted her weight.

Akira looked to Ryuji. Ready to step in if needed, and positioned as close as possible to him. The girl noticed, and looked to the ground.

She took no time to jump into it, eyes downcast, “I saw it- I… after everything with Shiho. I just wanted to apologize for being so cruel. You went through shit too, and I was looking for someone to pin my anger on.”

Disbelief hadn't already started to set in, Ryuji looking to the one glued to his side with hesitation. Knowing he couldn’t possibly give him the courage he needed. This was his own battle, “Takamaki…”

She looked hopeful, and Ryujis heart ached a bit for the part of her he hadn’t seen in years.

Over the last few weeks, he began to realize that when everything had ever felt too heavy, you had to learn to travel light. All the ill will she held, didn’t matter anymore, it was petty, and misplaced, and rushed because of her anger. The guilt shouldn’t weigh them down anymore, they should’ve stuck together from the beginning. Because as hard as it was to let go, and apologize, Ryuji was ready.

“I’m sorry too,” he started, folding his hands nervously in front of him, “I was a jerk who assumed things I shouldn’t have. Kamoshida put a awful vision in my head, and I put you there. Thank you for sticking up for me though…”

She cringed, “Oh god you heard that?”

Haru piped up behind Makoto, “We all did. It was pretty cool though!”

For a moment, the downpour filled the space where words were supposed to be. The group of kids letting the atmosphere soak in, just like the rain to their clothes. A silent, calming session between them all, and an unspoken agreement that all was at ease.

Well- almost.

All eyes where trained on him when he clutched his stomach. Feeling the trickle of blood on his forehead, tasting the iron in his mouth. He had completely forgotten that he was pummeled into the ground in favor of finding more friendship.

Akira laid a gentle hand to Ryujis shoulder, “We need to get you fixed up.”

Glancing down to his muddy shoes, and scraped up knees, he nodded. Pain starting to set, his gut had finally decided to show its damage. The dried blood from his nose still streaked across his hand.

“Yeah, we do.” He turned towards him, gracious smile, “We can all talk later when I’m not bleeding from random parts of my body, my mom's got a first aid kit.”

Haru poked Makoto, “Could we perhaps go get something sweet? My treat.”

Makoto nodded, directing her attention to the blonde girl, “Sure,” like she was debating in her head, she paused before turning, “Would you like to come too, Takamaki?”

She was taken back a little. Looking slightly shocked, and relieved at the same time as she calculated her words carefully.

“Oh?.. sure. I know a good crepe place-“

“I love crepes!” Haru shouted a bit too loud for her own self, dialing it back to finish, “Akira, go take care of Ryuji. Please message us later on how everything is going.”

Akira accepted her order with a curt nod, “Of course. You all have fun, we’ll see you later.”

Takamaki shot Ryuji a look through it all. Knowing, and hidden, she waved them off, “Yeah… later.”


	8. Chapter 8

“They sure liked kickin’ more than anything else.” Ryuji tried to laugh, ribs immediately telling him what an awful idea it was as they ached and screeched out warnings to him.

He winced when Akira dabbed a cotton ball to a thin cut on his forehead, trying his best not to focus on their hands. Intertwined, finely trimmed nails slightly digging into his skin, holding as tightly as he possibly could. So warm, so calming to Ryuji as he sat in pain.

Sure… he was pressing a pad to scraped skin, but, who’s to say dreaming is all that bad?

He liked how closely Akira was inspecting his face, even if he was squinting at his injuries, it made him mushy inside. Being overwhelmed was an understatement, hot breath on his face, eyes dragging along damaged flesh. Grey eyes of a winter storm. Clouds heavy with impending snowfall, he had blinked, and Ryuji swore he’d felt a cool breeze.

“M’ sorry.” He finally said, hoping Akira would take his hand away before he got all sweaty and gross.

He was embarrassed, directing Akira on where to yank him to. If the train ride didn’t do it enough, strangers staring wildly at the bloody and bruised kid, hand in hand with another surely did. His eyes at his feet as the streets had slowly become more and more cracked. The slums of Tokyo complete in the way the nice buildings slowly became far and few between.

His house was gross. It was gross, and cheap, and affordable to a single mother with one mistake of a child. Despite the creaky floorboards and muffled arguments of his neighbors, he was grateful he could at least have a place to live.

“I have no idea why you’re apologizing, Ryuji,” He sat back, still holding the pad to the bruised and scarred palm, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

It was still for a moment. Akira scanning Ryuji's face, watching his friend become flustered under his stare. Purple on his cheek still visible when he turned and dropped the eye contact.

His hair still stung from being yanked at earlier, but he wasn’t going to stop this moment to tend to it. He wasn’t gonna get an ice pack, check to make sure he didn’t have a bald spot. Akira was right there, if he were to move, the atmosphere that stood between the two would be ruined.

Sighing, he reached behind him, grabbing a washcloth, “C’mere.”

Ryuji followed the orders, looking to Akira with all the nervousness in the world held within his eyes. Following hand movements as the towel found its way to his upper lip. Slightly jerking back at the cold cloth, he wanted to pull further away when he realized how close they truly were.

Swiping back and forth, the dried blood that left streaks to his face was wiped away. The thoughts still swimming in his brain, and diving head first into the noticeable distance from each other. Thumb running over the skin to make sure it was all gone. Akira was acting like a concerned mother, and really, he couldn’t complain.

“You know,” Akira interrupted Ryuji's risky thoughts, “I’m really glad I met you.”

Arching a brow, he laughed, “What’s this all of a sudden, dude?”

Shrugging, he turned to grab gauze, unraveling it while he continued, “All I ever wanted was to help that woman. To get her out of a situation I knew she didn’t wanna be in.”

“I paid for it. In so many ways,” he halted for a moment, considering his words, “I thought about how awful it all felt, sitting in a courtroom. Made out to be some criminal. My parents throwing me away like trash. I-“

He stopped himself, breathing in. Taking the gauze, and finally removing his hand from Ryujis, “But, through it all. It was the best thing to happen to me.”

Carefully wrapping up Ryuji's palm, twisting slowly so the pad didn’t fall, he chuckled to himself, “I got to meet so many great people. I got to escape that god-awful country town.”

“I… I became friends with you,” he finally looked away from his work hand neatly bandaged up, focusing on the carpet, “You were the first person to talk to me in ages. And I know it seemed small- but you don’t understand just how important that day in group therapy was to me.”

Ryuji almost immediately flushed, scrunching in on himself, and almost ready to slap a hand to his thigh. The leg hadn’t bounced in forever, so why the hell was it doing it now? Eyes flicking down to his leg, and back up to his friend, sending a choppy smile, completely full of nerves.

He wasn’t prepared for this?? He couldn’t possibly have known it would end up as intimate as it was. What if his mom came home, what if he was too awkward and ruined it all???

Liking someone was painful, and all the more uneasy to a broken kid. Especially in this case, the guy he’d considered his best friend so close, and so much better than him in more ways than one.

Reaching out, Ryuji grew goosebumps as the pads of Akira’s fingers ran across the developing bruise to his cheek. Fidgeting, heart racing- holy hell it was so hot in there all of a sudden. Could Akira see the pink through all that purple? Rose color hidden beneath the surface of damaged skin?

He wasn’t ready! But how can anyone ever prepare for something like this? Was Akira gonna kiss him? Tell him he was disgusting and slap him for good measure? Would Ryuji ever stop asking so many questions in his own effin’ head??

It was impossible to believe that he hadn’t hit his head. How hard did he fall earlier? Something new and unusual- he doesn’t have to hastily sew together the broken bits of his skull. Perhaps Akira was doing it for him.

Coming a bit closer, Ryuji stopped breathing. Watching with his own wide eyes as the ones that stared back at him moved slowly. He couldn’t possibly be hallucinating the way he was focusing on his mouth. (He definitely wouldn’t pick the time he had a split lip to go and get his first kiss.)

He was right there… close. All the times Ryuji had pushed the thoughts he had of his best friend away. Like, he’d fall for Haru… or Makoto… never for the mess that was, Ryuji Sakamoto.

Akira closed his eyes, Ryuji started to lean in.

Inches apart-

Breath hitting each other’s faces. (when did he begin breathing again?)

If Akira’s eyes were shut…

He couldn’t possibly see the tears start to stream down Ryuji's face.

But he definitely could hear the loud sob that escaped from his mouth. Shooting his eyes open in concern, backing away in fear he might’ve done something awful. Ryuji covering his face, facing away from Akira. God he was awful.

“I’m- I’m so sorry Ryuji. I knew I shouldn’t have thought anything- I shouldn’t have pushed you- oh god.” Akira desperately tried to do damage control. Reaching out, and retracting again upon seeing the way the others shoulders shook.

He was crying harder now, nothing provoking the extra tears. They only fell in copious amounts simply because he was crying. Sobbing, for just the sole reason, that he even began to weep in the first place.

Shaking his head, he stood away from his … friend? Ready to grab his shoes and leave as soon as possible. Avoid the heartache of rejection by ignoring the actual words themselves, to go home and pretend it never happened. Change his name to something else, move to somewhere far far away from it all.

He was about ready to make a break for the door, plans on where to book a flight to already forming in his head, when a light grasp found its way to his wrist. Stopping his movements, and making him cringe in not reacting sooner.

“It’s not you, at all.” Ryuji looked up through puppy dog eyes, Akira filling in the ‘it’s me,’ in his head as he relaxed his stance. The response he was expecting never coming.

Ever since he was little, he could remember the harsh words that where spewed on the daily. Memories of the pain they caused him hurt more than any scar he had on his body. Things like, “dumbass,” or “useless...”

Or… “Faggot.”

Of course he never would’ve known he was actually interested in boys until high school. The constant echo of insults stopped him from ever doing anything about these developing feelings. The senpai he liked, was undoubtedly straight, but it’s not like Ryuji could muster up the courage to confess anyway.

Tears and crying where something to be afraid of. Something to fear. Because showing his emotions, was telling his father he was weak. Weak, and easy to target. Like his mother, who’s broken sobs still rang in his ears, unable to stop them, and unable to avoid the abuse.

He had to learn how to grow up quickly. And part of that, caused him to hide his emotions. Become reserved, and silent about anything unnecessary, he was broken, but it wasn’t like him crying was going to fix anything either.

“My- my dad. He’d always call me a sissy. Always say that tears are for the weak… and it’s been imprinted in my brain to hide this all…” he dropped his hold on Akira.

Sniffling, and using his uninjured hand to wipe at his eyes, Ryuji tried his best to say what he meant, “Ever since I was little. I’d been taught to become stone-faced. If I wasn’t- he’d freakin’ hit me, or call me names… one of the more frequent ones being a fa-“

Akira shook his head, immediately dropping back to the bed to envelope Ryuji in a hug. Careful not to crush his stomach, and further the damage of his fight earlier. Holding him tightly as the back of his own shirt began to grow wet from all the damaged boys tears, the blond letting out a shaky breath in realization of damp spots beneath his chin. 

“You can talk about your past and not cry- and it just makes me feel like his words are true. God Akira I love you so much and it hurts. It all sucks. I’ll never be able to tell you how much I like you. How much you mean to me. I’m such a mess. Oh my god why do you even involve yourself with me- oh god. This sucks, I’m so awful. I love you so much and you’re too amazing to me and and and and-” He said into Akira’s neck, muffled, but all the more coherent to him.

Akira froze for a moment at his babbling, deciding not to touch on the few sentences that made his heart seize up. The rest of his ongoing words seeming to go mute to his ears.

“Everyone deals with things in different ways. I think you’re brave to show your vulnerability to me.” Akira’s fingers had made their way into Ryujis hair, raking through with all the care and compassion in the world.

“I’m just a little kid, man. I was forced to grow up scared enough to hold all them doors shut.” He bit back a misplaced laugh, “And I had to bury all my shitty innocence deep in the pits of my heart in favor of being mature enough to fight back.”

He felt like a poet.

“It's _so_ far beneath the surface, but I’m ready to give someone a shovel  
to dig me out.” Smiling against the soft skin of Akira’s neck, he pulled back to rest his forehead to his shoulder, “You’re that someone, Akira.”

Finally leaving the comfort of the hug. Ryuji blinked through his tears. Focusing on the person sitting with a glaze to his eyes.

Akira gave him side eye with the familiar mischievous quirk of his lips. Puzzled, Ryuji narrowed his glare, leaning forward to get a better look on the cockiness written in his expression.

“What’s that face for?”

Arching a brow and letting his fingers interlock in his lap, Akira shrugged, “What face?”

“Don’t be an asshole! This is an important moment!” Ryuji shoved him lightly, glad to quickly shift over from the depressing stuff to the joy of having it all out into the world.

“It’s just…” Akira snickered, “You confessed to me, Ryuji.”

He blinked. Mouth immediately growing dry because this was the most awful way to do it!

Running a hand through his hair, he groaned, “Oh god I’m such an idiot! You probably hate my guts now, what a shitty confession.”

Akira rolled his eyes. Reaching forward and grabbing Ryuji's attention back. Forcing the eye contact that he’d always tried to avoid.

“You’re the first person I’ve ever truly liked. I could never hate you.” He smiled.

Something familiar filled the space. A deja vu moment from their almost-kiss earlier. Akira stared him down with a sly grin. Looking over his glasses to the blond.

Ryuji swallowed the lump in his throat formed by the crying session. Watching through watery eyes as Akira stared right back at him. Lips curved upwards, almost teasing in a way. And, Ryuji dared to let his own smile whisper, come and get it.

And boy, did he do just that.

Those delicate fingers he’d spent so much time focusing on, pushed back a piece of Ryuji’s unruly hair. Sliding further back, ghosting over the short, bleached locks to rest at the back of his head, so carefully. Hands basically cradling Ryuji to bring him closer, and closing that space just as eagerly by practically crawling into his lap.

Ryuji swore he’d remembered reading somewhere that first kisses were awkward and so horrid. But the blossoming heat in his face as the lips laying flat against his own began to move, had said completely otherwise. All those tears shed earlier had stuck to both their cheeks as they continued.

The hand on the back of his head slid up again though, cupping Ryuji’s cheek. Somehow deepening their kiss even more, and causing the blond to fall back a bit. Akira almost entirely on top of him now, it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t hide his grin.

Akira stifled a laugh when he pulled back, just to rest his forehead on Ryuji’s, all he could manage coming out breathy, “Woah.”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck- blue screen. Complete mental failure, Ryuji.exe has stopped functioning. Blank blank blank. He needed to say something, anything, to wipe that concerned look off of Akira’s face, but god. He was stuck in his own little fuck up of a brain fart.

“Woah.”

That’s when Akira full on snorted.

And that’s when Ryuji let the biggest beam weave its way onto him. Knowing it was bright, and knowing that the person sitting next to him, clutching his stomach with all the laughter, had saw it as so much more than an ugly smile.

He always would see it as more, because, that’s what he’d always done. Take something far more extraordinary out of anything small. See everything different, in his own way,, like holding them up to the light changed his whole perspective…

Maybe Ryuji was glad Akira took the time to do that with him. To see more than the gruff surface, the limping boy who looked like he’d try and beat you up behind a breakfast restaurant.

Akira has seen that grumpy looking guy in group therapy, and decided to become friends with him. Bring him home, go hang out together, talk to him for weeks and weeks and… kiss him.

As tough as it was to admit. Group therapy wasn’t as bad as he thought it was going to be.

Getting that pamphlet in the mail all those months back, he took one good look at it, and stuck his nose up.

Now, as he sat in the circle, friends around him… boyfriend (holy shit that was real??) He was glad he didn’t chuck the paper into the trash, and never turned back.

He moved his feet from the pavement, to the grass along the way. Overcoming a lot. Things he never knew were hurdles, or problems, gone with the wind, and all the worries. No longer did he close in on himself, tuck away his personality. Much to the group leader’s enjoyment, he was bright, loud, and bubbly, something lost so long ago.

They’d welcome newcomers with open arms, instead of ones tucked to their sides. Shoved deep into their pockets or crossed at the chest. Understanding the uncomfortable few, not pushing too hard, and certainly not too light.

One of the new people, was a familiar face.

Ann, (yes, Ann, she insisted on a first name basis now,) had found herself seated with the group. Right next to the frail, fragile, and glorious Shiho. Who wound back up there, a small party thrown for her recovery.

It always costs farewell tears for a welcome-home parade. To be happy, be okay, to change, you needed to sacrifice. No matter the journey, where you came from, what happened to you, the joy you felt in the end was well worth everything that had ever happened.

School was far better than before. Kamoshida was arrested in a fantastic spectacle. Makoto's sister actually bringing the police into the school to get him by request of… someone…. Kids actually cheering as he was drug out in handcuffs. It was glorious.

It was glorious… and, Ryuji could finally say, genuinely, that he was happy.

Ryuji wanted to be here, truly, be here. To watch the ones he cared for the most, bloom, and grow into their magnificence. His own petals wound tightly in Akira’s, the sun their only limit.

He could remember when waking up had become a chore.

Although his journey was a blessing with a curse woven into it… hand squeezing Akira’s. Futaba talking Yusuke's ear off about some western pop culture thing he was vaguely interested in. Haru and Makoto talking to Ann and Shiho, deep into some story Ryuji couldn’t possibly understand now.

A warmth filled his chest.

Because it was all worth it in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> *sniff sniff* Whaaa I'm not crying?? 
> 
> Whoooo it's been a journey. We went through Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Valentine's day, which, is like, insane??? It seems like yesterday that it was September, and I was panicking that I'd never get this done, but here we are!
> 
> Please, please, go read the other participants stories! We've all worked so long, and so hard to bring finish this event, and bring it to you. Nothing would be possible without the lovely mods who reminded us of deadlines, and even extended some (god bless.) The artists and the betas dealt with our words nicely and perfectly, and you should definitely check them out too!


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